


The Interview (Norman Reedus X Reader)

by MiyakoNanashi



Category: Actor RPF, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead RPF
Genre: F/M, Journalism, Love/Hate, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RPF, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyakoNanashi/pseuds/MiyakoNanashi
Summary: You are a journalist & you must write an article about Norman Reedus. Yes, you must, because you got a time limit.No, you weren't happy. You knew that it was going to be the most horrible time of your life. Or maybe not?
Relationships: Norman Reedus/Other(s), Norman Reedus/Reader, Norman Reedus/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

You are a normal reporter, maybe just a little busier than the others but you knew that was due to the fact that you didn't have a social life like all the other women at your age, and for this very reason you found yourself writing that damn article.

That day one of your higher ranked colleagues walked into the newsroom, among people reflecting on who might be interested in the editor-in-chief and who would be interviewing a celebrity that time. Most of your colleagues still couldn't get used to the life you all had chosen; you were ordinary human beings while the celebrities were always a step higher, or at least that was what they thought of themselves. Your higher ranked colleague was the top exponent of the Agency, known in the journalistic field, including you, for bringing important contracts for interviews and big revelations from actors, so one can understand why you were so excited.  
The woman was wearing her usual gray suit, low heels and a pair of light-rimmed glasses, and you were only aware of these details because it looked like she only had that one suit. With a briefcase in her hand and the other arm hanging motionless by her side, she passed the crowd looking like the perfect imitation of Moses, and entered the office under the enthusiastic gaze of the editor-in-chief, who set his eyes on you for a second and then turn around and followed the agent.  
You understood your fate and you would have preferred to be buried alive at that moment. He'd been pestering you for months about a possible article on Norman Reedus' life, he'd warned you, told you to get ready... And what had you done? You had laughed. Yes, because Norman would never have accepted an article of THAT kind and definitely not from you. A month in the spotlight. God, no actor, singer, director, writer, or any other person with a functioning brain would have agreed to undergo such torture. Yet it had happened.

The woman went out greeting the chief with a handshake, stared at you with a wicked smile painted on her face and went out apparently satisfied before the excited eyes of dozens of journalists.Another colleague, the one who took care of the most famous people, already headed for the chief, but he only had eyes for you; he pointed to you and beckoned you to come closer.

You were going straight to hell...

"You know what happened to Norman Reedus, right?", he asked you as soon as you walked into his office. Oh my God, should you know? You haven't been paying much attention to gossip magazines lately. But you nodded, swallowing hard.

"Well, after the separation from his girlfriend he let himself go a little, and now his agent wants to renew his image." He paused briefly, created the right suspense and burst out laughing. "And he accepted the article!"

You mimed his expression to make yourself as believable as possible. "But that's fantastic!" 

Then you went back to your own previous expression, impassive, hoping that that way you would get away with it. "I'm going to get-..."  
But you didn't have time to turn around or even finish the sentence when he finally told you his news. "The article is yours, Y/N!"

An hour later you headed to your apartment. And you know very well what others were probably thinking: "Oh my god! Norman Reedus! How cool is he! Why wasn't Y/N happy? I could have swapped with her!"  
Well, they should know that you finally accepted the assignment, so they can also stop making some inappropriate comments. They shouldn't get you wrong, even you thought Norman Reedus was a handsome man, all muscular and stuff, but you just didn't care. All that mystery, cameras surrounding him... You avoided him every time you went to a premiere and he probably hated you. He hated what you stood for, of course. Precisely for this reason you knew that the next few weeks would be a nightmare. Nothing compared to what you would have been going through. Your boss had let you out early to prepare for the meeting that was to be held the next day, so you had time to go to the first mall to buy Reedus' most popular movies (aka movies and shows you'd heard about)...

The next morning you weren't very awake. Perhaps you would go closer to the situation by saying that you looked like a zombie, but you were ready and prepared after reading excerpts from some bios on the internet.  
In the last few days you had read, after the revelation of his breakup with his girlfriend, Norman Reedus had left her so the lovely agent had forced him to sign the contract with ... well, you. No surprise then, that he was looking at you from head to toe when you arrived in front of his house, with a coffee in one hand and showing an definitely more than just annoyed appearance the first day work.

Did you already say you avoided his movies and shows all these years? Okay, you were lying. You were watching The Walking Dead. You had to admit it. And at that moment you were just afraid he would drown you in a crowd of zombies he probably hid in the basement, along with dead squirrels. Imagination of that kind certainly didn't help.

You took a deep breath before trying to speak again. Already from that distance you could make out every pore on his skin.

"Good morning...", you murmured with a hint of a smile, but he didn't let you finish.

Immediately his agent turned around, followed by the dead silent actor, to enter the house with quick steps. You stood still with your mouth open. Oh come on, they literally slammed a door in your face! For what? You went back to the car where you left the empty cup of coffee, joined them in the house and found them bent over a stack of papers, sitting at a large table.

"They sent me here from the-..."

"Come here, come on, so we sign and you can start your snooping job."

Among the awards he had won, you didn't think there was one for being grumpy.

"I didn't ask for this job, you know? I don't even like you."

Yeah, maybe you should have answered a little differently, since, just to get it right into your own mind again: You had to spend 30 days together for only ONE article!

In response, he turned to you with a fake smirk on his face.  
"Seems like we have something in common, dear."

You couldn't help but sit there and sign the contract. You didn't like him, he didn't like you, but what did you care? Such a well-written article would have meant a huge career boost.  
Norman Reedus was only work. Just work...


	2. Chapter 2

By now it was established: He was unpleasant.

You sat down at the table sighing loudly and tore the papers out of their hands to start reading what was written in the contract. Should you have respected all those clauses? His agent stood up and you heard her walk away, while Norman sat in front of you watching you closely. You tried to avoid looking up and meeting his blue eyes otherwise an endless staring contest would start, you were sure about that. The first articles were about your work, what you could write and what you absolutely should avoid, such as detailed descriptions of the places he visited, the house, cruel comments about his lifestyle or information about the films and shows he had a role in or about people he met; reasonable things. You went on, until you came across some quite interesting phrases.

“It will be forbidden for the aforementioned Y/N Y/L/N to have intimate moments with the subject of her article, actor Norman Reedus. He will also be fined over [...] if you get too close to him in public [...]."

You tidied up the papers and crossed your arms over your chest. "Are you two serious or are you just kidding me?", you asked as his agent returned.

"I have to protect myself.", he replied simply, grinning.

You snorted. You had to let that situation go well, you couldn't give up now. "Only a few weeks, only a few weeks...", you kept repeating in your head, and with time those words would become your mantra. You couldn't even hold the pen in your hand due to nervousness. "It takes professionalism." Yes, professionalism...

"So, can I visit the house?" You had barely signed the contract by now, the agent was back in the office and you were left alone with Norman Reedus and your notebook again, and the latter didn't seem very eloquent.

"Haven't you read the contract?"

"Answering a question with a question wouldn't save you from this article, Norman.", you thought to yourself.   
“Of course I've read the contract. It says I can't describe the rooms in detail, not that I can't write how many bathrooms there are."

He stared at you intensely and approached you. "Only if you show me your house first."

And unfortunately he wasn't kidding.

"Don't laugh, I'm serious!"

You realized you couldn't negotiate, because when had you seen that man ever being serious? Oh, yeah, when he was dealing with paparazzi and fans.

You stood up and confused him by starting to wander around the room with your eyes, then started a race against him to get upstairs. Both of you probably looked like two children, but apparently it was the only way to get something for your article. However, you stopped when you reached the landing, not because the actor had joined you, but because you had suddenly realized the silence that reigned in that house.

"Wait a minute...", you began: "Where is your son?"

He also stopped halfway to observe you.  
"School."

But from his expression you knew you were missing something. It had to be something about his life, something you hadn't read the previous night in those endlessgossipmagazines. You should come up with a brilliant idea, but you didn't have the time.

"Oh right, school!" You pretended to look casual and continued going up the stairs, but a hand caught your arm. Shouldn't you stay away from him?

“Your house implies my house."

So you were literally forced to drive to your apartment.  
It was useless to pretend that the act just before had had a meaning, because it didn't really have any. But maybe it was that first touch that triggered it all. Or maybe the problem is that you kept mulling over it all the time until you reached the point where you would think of anything but that.

"You're too quiet to be a reporter.", he whispered looking out the window as he held a cigarette in his hand suspended between his index and middle fingers, his mouth half closed. That must have been the first time you thought of Norman Reedus in a way that was anything but pure...

"I understand more about people by observing them when they are not talking."

"Then try not to watch me becoming mad at you, though...", he answered and hinted a laugh as he made small circles in the air with the smoke.

There was too much silence. Too much...

"I saw on the contract that I will only be able to come to your house within set times."

“Yeah, I think it's from nine in the morning to ten in the evening. In those hours you can follow me, afterwards you'll have to abandon me and go home to write down every single detail of my fucking life." 

Yeah, obnoxious...

“Could you avoid saying that every time we talk? I'm just trying to work; I certainly don't collect that information for my personal blog. The next time you wanna talk with me about something, think twice before you open your mouth!"

The discussion ended more or less there, apart from some incomprehensible muttering from both of you. You still couldn't understand why he wanted to see your apartment so badly, damn it, there was really nothing to see! He probably wanted some proof of your secret love and fangirling for him, which he wouldn't find.

When you both arrived at your apartment, thinking no one was there, you suddenly heard footsteps. Yeah, the day couldn't get any better...

"Y/N are you home? I found the key in the usual place, is it possible that you still can't make up your mind to remove it from under the doormat? I went in and found half the filmography of that cool-... OH MY GOD WHY IS NORMAN REEDUS IN YOUR APARTMENT?", the person practically yelled into your direction.

Your best friend... She had just heard the door open and had already begun to speak in bursts, as always. Y/F/N ((Your Friends Name), a huge Norman Reedus fan...

“Norman this is Y/F/N."

"Y/F/N this is-..."

"Norman Reedus, I know!"

She slowly got up and walked towards him, then threw her arms around his neck on the verge of tears. Hugging him tight she suddenly ran out. How embarrassing... Okay, that's right, you should have warned her first that you should have spent a couple of days with him, but you had ... well ... forgotten...

Before you could stop him, Norman walked over to the coffee table in front of the couch and lifted the cover of a DVD. "That outfit was awful."

No boasting about his qualities as an actor? What a progress.

"Research."

You were not very good at making excuses. Even if it wasn't an excuse. But you couldn't tell him that you didn't know anything about him until the night before, could you? Yes, you were babbling...  
He looked around and looked at a photo frame next to the TV for a few seconds: It contained an image of you and your boyfriend in New York a few years earlier. He recovered by shaking his head and, muttering "Good. Let's go." and got back into the car.

“You can visit everything except-..."

“The bathrooms. I have read the contract carefully. I also know that I cannot browse in drawers or wander around without permission."

"Exactly."

The house was huge, but you already knew that. It had more than two bedrooms, multiple bathrooms which he pointed out to you, a room used to hold musical instruments, and another room only for his son. You made a lot of notes, always checked by the actor who followed you and peeked over your shoulder from time to time to make sure you only wrote what you were supposed to. It was asphyxiating, but you could understand it. Not only did he learn of his partner's betrayal, he also had to put up with a journalist who was supposed to write everything about his life.  
You ordered pizza for lunch, he got a call from Jeffrey Dean Morgan inviting him to dinner for the following Monday, and you kept wandering around the house all afternoon.

You were sitting side by side on the sofa in the large living room later, watching a movie until he began to imitate his own movements and slowly slipped his hand under the blanket with which he protected himself and brought the blanket close to your body; all while pretending to be indifferent while continuing to observe the scene on the television, with you slowly drifting to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Norman only greeted you with a nod the next morning when you entered the house with the keys he had given you the previous day.

"The contract says at 9, so you are allowed to come at that time. Most of the time you'll probably have to wake me up.", he mumbled showing you a cold look. It was a quarter past nine when you arrived that morning, and he was definitely not sleeping anymore.  
You took a first step up the stairs leading to the second floor, then another, until you reached the it.

You could have sworn by the sound of the water that he was singing in the shower. Given the dream you had that night; and that he just didn't want to leave your mind, you couldn't say you were feeling comfortable at that moment. You repeated backwards the movement you had made while going upstairs, which almost made you fall off the third to the last step. Regaining your balance you ran out of the house. 

You walked away until you reached the first cafeteria, then, ordered a coffe, sat outside and decided to make some calls. You definitely didn't want to see him naked...

“You're such a bitch Y/N! I've spent the last few hours rationalizing what I did to Norman Reedus yesterday! I LITERALLY SMELLED HIM! That was so embarrassing! Why didn't you save me?", your best friend began right after she got on her phone.

You put the phone away for a moment from your ear to regain hearing, consequently you only answered after a couple of seconds.  
"I haven't had time to warn-..."

"FUCK IT!", she answered furious and you couldn't blame her. Well, actually, yes, but...

"I had no idea you were at my house, but above all I didn't expect to have to show him my apartment!"

A minute of silence passed before hearing her voice again. "Okay, but I want to meet him again."

Now she sounded more determined than ever, the feigned anger had dissolved and her voice radiated joy at the thought of seeing her favorite actor again.

You simply laughed. "I promise!", you said before hanging up.

The worst call still awaited you, though. You had to inform your boss, of the "progress" of the interview. You didn't have much yet, well you actually didn't have anything, but you couldn't suddenly disappear from the editorial radar as if nothing had happened. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and he didn't seem to want to answer.

"Come on...", you murmured as if to push your imaginary boss towards the telephone receiver with words. Miraculously it seemed to work.

"Yes?", he replied bored.

In the background you could hear the sound of various stuff being moved, which reminded you of a series of memories of him sifting through the newspaper accounts, continually relegating everything to the notary. The days off you had taken were very rare, in fact at that moment you missed your desk and the screams of your colleagues immensely.

"Hey, it's Y/N."

"Oh... Oh! Hey Y/N! How's the article going so far?"

You limited yourself with a hint of a smile. "It'sfine. He's being a bit tough, but I'm sure over time-..."

"Y/N you're a mystery even to me."

"Okay, okay, I'll give him some time and he will melt and tell me some secrets. At least I hope so."

"Well, but that's perfect!"

Then you heard a door open at the other end of the phone and close, the sound of heels and your boss greeted the woman in a low voice. "I have to leave, but we'll talk again soon!"  
And with that he ended the conversation.

Now it was time to face your enemy. All you had to do was delete that senseless dream from your memory. The problem was not the feelings you had for him because they were none, but the insecurity that had caused you to run away. Your mind had betrayed you... You walked back boldly into the house, and once Norman looked to you it was causing you to trip over the tiny step. Two arms retrieved you and helped you get up.

"I know people like me all around the world, but you don't need to pretend to be clumsy only to get into my arms."

You didn't understand at first and stood up, checked yourself, and then looked up at him.

"To pretend? Don't-... Oh hell, please someone kill me right now!", you commented, running a hand through your hair.

Norman was fully dressed by now: A simple shirt, a leather jacket and jeans. He eyed you to check that you were fine, took a pencil from the counter covered with various letters and keys, then threw himself on the sofa next to a guitar; took it, narrowed his eyes and began to play a melody unknown to you.  
He wasn't doing it on purpose, he was doing it for himself. It belonged to his own enchanted world, made up of impossible notes and stories, an unreal world in which, for a long time, you wanted to be part of.  
You dragged yourself with the elegance of a sloth to the chair next to him. As you got your notebook and pen you kept listening and he seemed not to notice your presence at all. You quickly wrote, without really realizing how time passed on. You moved on to more detailed things like his pose, one leg dangling and the other resting on the armrest and his serene expression.

Yet you broke that silence after a couple of minutes. "I didn't know you could play.", you said in an uncertain voice.

"You don't know a lot of things, from what I see.", he answered with his eyes closed.

You ignored the grumpy tone he had used and continued with your questions. "Since when have you been playing?"

He looked up at tou, then at the notebook you held in your hand. He was almost ... disappointed?

"Doesn't matter."

You were ready to ask more questions to really start the interview, but suddenly your phone cut you off. Damn phone... You put everything back in your bag while you took it and walked away. Looking at the screen you saw it was your boyfriend and snorted before answering.

“Hey? I already told you to stop calling me when I'm at work!"

Why did people keep interrupting you while you were at work?

"Hey, don't worry, I just called you to find out how you are!" He was smiling, you could hear it from his tone of voice.

"I am fine thanks."

A neutral tone was the best option, otherwise he would have believed who knows what, and the only thing you needed right now was to get back together with him, since you had a "little break" at the moment.

"I'm not trying to get back together or push you, absolutely not, but I'd like to have a coffee with you one of these days..."

Both of you met in high school and were friends at first back then. By the time he went to university, however, something had changed. You began to notice some attentions that he reserved for you and that, despite everything, did not bother you at all. After the first period of "settling in", therefore, you became the prototype of a perfect couple: You fought only because of the stupidest things but you were immediately able to make peace, you saw each other every day but also spent time with friends... In short, you both were happy. But in the last year you realized that the parties he attended in the evening had become too numerous and in the morning you could hardly concentrate. You really loved him, but you left him as soon as you got the job as a journalist. You couldn't sacrifice your life and career just like that, but he didn't seem to take it very well. However, you hadn't gotten into anything bad back then, so you still had many happy memories of your time with him.

"A coffee you say? Fine."

“Okay, perfect… Well… Tomorrow morning? Around 9, since you definitely have to work later."

At times he was also adorable, you had to admit...

"Perfect. The usual place."

Since you had never moved in together, at least not officially, in the morning before going to class you both met in a small café near your apartment, since he was the only one with a car.

"Okay, then... Well... See you tomorrow!"

Now you almost regretted having accepted.  
When he ended the conversation Norman's phone rang, but he didn't answer at all. Initially you thought it was his son, but his expression didn't change too much and he looked over waving at you. You followed him after retrieving your bag and saw that a car with tinted windows, with his agent inside, was waiting for the two of you... Or at least waiting for him. You sat next to him in the back seat and set off for an unknown destination.

"Are you going to tell me where we are going?", you asked after a few minutes of driving.

Norman had asked to turn on the air conditioning, so you moved as far away as possible from the center of the seat, where the air was coming from directly. In this way, you were on opposite sides of the car as his agent took the front seat next to the driver. It was her who answered first, with an arrogant tone.

"You're here for the interview, there's nothing written on the contract about letting you know where we're going."

"Stop being a bitch, please." Norman hinted at a laugh as he murmured this phrase.  
“She's just doing her job, isn't she? Let her do it!"   
Although he had somehow protected you, he did not deign to look at you. He couldn't hide the contempt he felt for your profession, however foolish and childish.

'Norman! Norman!'  
'Norman, is she your new girlfriend?'  
'Do you still have contact with Andy?'  
'Is it true that your ex wife intends to take away custody of your child?'  
'Norman, when will Daryl fall in love?'

These were just some of the things that could be heard screaming as you stepped out of the car into the crowd of photographers and fans. The flashes blinded you, yet Norman seemed immune to it behind those dark-lensed glasses of his. His agent grabbed your arm and you all walked towards the entrance to a studio as the actor was stopped for some photos and autographs.   
It was crazy...

There were people running around, others were walking slowly but fast so as not to drop the multitude of coffees they had with them for the staff. Norman joined you soon after and headed for the makeup room, where they did very little tweaking to make him look perfect in front of the camera and, you hated to say it, but he really looked perfect. You still couldn't figure out how he could handle the camera flashes, the screams, the demands, yet still be nice to the fans. That life seemed like hell, and you were from head to toe thrown into it.  
During an interview they talked about this and that, about his film and a new season that would be released soon, about his child, but one topic was carefully avoided by the presenter: His wife or, better said, ex-wife. Most likely, from the satisfied look the agent had at the end of the 20-minute shoot, it was clearly specified in the contract.  
Damn that agent and her heinous contracts...  
They were about halfway through the interview, you were watching from the backstage on a screen showing what they were recording, when a kind of funny topic for you came out.

“So… I heard you're doing a private interview. Is that true?", he asked.

"Well, yes. And that's thirty days of my life wasted."

He seemed to want to limit himself to that and turned his gaze to the side for a moment to meet the eyes of his agent.

"Does this sound like a good idea? In short, what do you think?"

What was he going to answer? He was an actor, so he knew how to hide his emotions, and in that moment he did it perfectly by making a smile appear on his face and brushing his chin.

“I don't really like having my private life put in the spotlight, but I'm an actor, I'm used to it. I also think it's an opportunity for people to see what's really happening."

His agent looked quite proud of that answer, as if he was her son. Could she have taught him how to get around problems? How to get away with this? Could she have told him to avoid paparazzi and intrusive newspapers? Could it have affected him so much?

Later they drove you back to Norman's house when it was afternoon. After the live interview you had also passed by Jimmy Kimmel and right after the exit you had stopped on the street, as before, for autographs. It was starting to get unnerving for you, let alone for him who had to go through that almost every day. You went into the house even though you would have left within half an hour: After those live interviews, it certainly wouldn't have helped him to have you around.

"Are you going to stay long? I'd like to go to sleep soon."

"Yeah, I wanted to leave, but if you put it that way I feel compelled to stay."

And with that you threw yourself on the sofa and watched him from there. Yes, the compassion was gone. He only snorted.

“Okay, tell me what the hell I did to you. I'm only doing my work. This article, yours, could be the work that will take me to the next level. I'm working, do you understand? They gave me a piece of paper and said: 'Here's what you have to do, go do your duty. He's a big shot.' And exactly like that I found myself with a piece of paper, a pen and a notebook to mark every detail of an actor I didn't know about and didn't care about until two days ago. Two days. Now I am here, amidst paparazzi and pieces of paper that any of your fans would pay millions for. Stop imitating the actor stereotype with me, because you only make me work harder. So here I am, deal with it!"

You got up from the sofa, put your bag on your shoulder and headed for the exit, but stopped beside Norman to speak again.

"Stop making my job so damn hard and I'm sure these twenty-eight days will go by a lot faster."

And with that you left, slamming the door shut behind you.  
The look that you saw appear on his face signed a tacit agreement between the two of you, the beginning of everything.


	4. Chapter 4

Your boyfriend got up when he saw you coming, you feeling clumsier than usual. He was sitting in the little café near a window overlooking the uncrowded street. You haven't seen him in a few months, but he hadn't changed much: He remained tall and slender, his hair not reaching his shoulders. The only change was the beard, which he never let grow. Other than that, when he drank - and even there he melted without reaching what you termed a "degree of decay" - he remained a gentleman, so even that hadn't changed.

"Good morning Y/N. You look ... shiny."

"Save the compliments, you won't get me back that easily.", you said sharply.

He was always quick to compliment, being always kind to women, but he kept that eternal childlike demeanor, a kind of Peter Pan. You were convinced that he would stay in college forever, with your mind to keep him company. Then you sat down and let the bag slide to the ground.

"I don't want to win you back.", he paused a few seconds, trying to find the best words to explain himself better. "Or rather, if you want, I'll stop trying." 

You both ordered a coffee and talked about the latest news, including the article about Norman Reedus, until you got to that awkward moment when neither of you had anything to say. You started fidgeting with a handkerchief nervously, a habit you've had since childhood.

"I miss you...", he suddenly whispered to you.

The touch of his hand was warm. Not just because it was barely ten degrees outside, but because it was comfortable. You had had no other men after him and after spending almost five years of your life with him, his touch meant "home". It was a habit, it almost seemed to you that you had never parted with the man in front of you. For a moment it was tempting to touch his hair and kiss him, but you immediately returned to reality. You retrieved the hand, the bag, even your heart and stepped out into the cold air of the city once again...

After it you went straight to the actor around ten, later than usual, still excited about what had happened. Sure, there wasn't much to be angry about, but ... well, let's just say he caught you off guard. 

"You're late.", Norman commented with a touch of disappointment.

"Actually-...", you started but he cut you off. 

“You're late when I need you. Today I need you."

You kept asking yourself in vain why everyone kept interrupting you. 

"You do?"

"Exactly. Let's go." 

At that moment a car arrived and Norman went out, barely wanting to look at you. You had to admit your female pride was slightly injured. Well, thanks to the article you had to write...  
However, you followed him out of the house and got into the car for no reason. You could have taken control of the situation one way or another.

"Where do we go?", you asked and made yourself comfortable in the back seat.

"To a premiere."

When you got to the airport you followed Norman like a dog all the way. You had never taken a plane because you were scared of it, so at that moment you thought you were definitely going to die. He instead, appeared calm.   
He already had the tickets in his pocket - first class, but it didn't calm you at all - so you went straight to the check-in. There was no point in repeating that you didn't have a suitcase, right? You didn't talk all the time, you just got on the plane and a stewardess showed you the seat behind the actor.

"Did your agent tell you why I have to come too?"

You were worried and needed to talk so you leaned over to him and put your elbows on the back of his seat.

"Yes, but I don't want to tell you yet." , he said, showing you a kind of cruel smile. "I'm afraid you might run away if I tell you now.", he said then, looking straight back in front of him.

So you went back to your seat and snorted. With the help of the stewardess, you buckled up and looked out of the window. There was a slight delay due to the frost on the aircraft's wings so all you did was thank the unexpected cold for this slight delay. Your luck was known: The engines started about 5 minutes after the last thank you you said to yourself. You felt a slight vibration, a kind of whisper from the plane, like a warning. It seemed to be telling you to run away while you still had the time. The wheels moved slowly at first, then picked up speed and guided the vehicle over the runway. As soon as it took off, flying quietly towards its destination.  
After all, flying wasn't that bad if you didn't think about landing and taking off. Watching from above gives a sense of power, just what you needed. Being in the clouds, flying around without sudden movements, was relaxing beyond measure.  
Between drinks and snacks, a cognac ordered by Norman and a glass of gin for you, the 8 hour flight passed without any problems. Obviously, the threatening message you send to your boss could not be missed: “The next time you choose me as a babysitter for uninspiring actors, give me a friendly warning. With a heart full of vengeance, Y/N." And to hell with the truce...

Apart from a few small misunderstandings, you got ashore safely. You were amazed, to say the least, at the view you had seen from the taxi that had brought you to the hotel and you looked forward to exploring this city more, although you weren't exactly sure if you could.

"Shouldn't you go straight to the premiere? Isn't that how it works?"

You had already noticed that Norman was not in the needed dresscode, or at least not suitable for the event. While working for a magazine, you wrote several articles about the lives of the higher class and you knew a lot of actors were coming straight from the airport because the red carpet was open to the stars early.

"Yeah, but since you have to change too, I thought I'd break the rule."

"You what?"

“What I had to tell you. My manager wants you to come with me."

He didn't give you time to answer when you got to the hotel at that time. Norman wasted no time and rushed to the entrance, then straight to the reception. You went to the elevator in silence. Everything was actually much quieter than the day before.  
And then he did explain as soon as you entered his suite what was on his managers mind. He explained the idea of posing as his new girlfriend to distract reporters from his recent "style flaws". You couldn't describe how you felt when he told you everything.

"How did we meet?"

"What do you think? America knows that you are writing an article about me. That is how you met me."

You were silent for a few seconds.  
“Is that how it works then? It's only been some days and I already 'want you'?"

He didn't answer that question, he just glanced at you as he put the his clothes on the bed in the large room you had just reached. You didn't really want to do it. Yet, you did it at all. You had signed up for a long interview and that evening would have been useful to meet other actors, but you didn't care. You had to write your article about Norman Reedus, but it could've ended there. This story would go on for weeks and you definitely couldn't work well in this environment. But you also already hated his manager and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to piss her off, right? Couldn't Norman be looking for an actress - or maybe a singer - who loved him and really wanted to be with him?

"I'm not going to you must do it, because it wasn't my idea, you can still refuse.", he said in a whisper, watching your expression carefully.

You really wanted to refuse, but something told you not to.

"I will do it.", you said confidently. "But on one condition: You have to tell me in detail about your life, not like the stupid Wikipedia bullshit."

"Do you really want to see everything?"

"I want to get you naked.", you nodded, keeping yourself serious. "Well, not physically, I don't want to take you clothes off, but ... you know...", and with that you ruined the atmosphere.

Norman took a few steps in the room, back and forth. "So be it. Now put this dress on so we can go to the damn premiere."

He uncovered the package and let you see a red dress that you never thought you would wear.  
He walked into the living room with his suit over his shoulder, leaving you with your doubts about the actual size of the dress. You quickly undressed and dropped your sweatshirt, shirt, ankle boots and finally jeans on the floor. Picking up the dress, you stood in front of the mirror, and looked for a way to put on this beautiful piece of fabric and when you pulled the zipper up you found it was definitely your size. When you were done you told him and he joined you while pinning the last buttons on his shirt, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

"Red looks really good on you.", he said with a seraphic smile. 

"Yeah, stop kidding. But go ahead, I'll have your life written down in a notebook soon enough."

The dress was great, as were the shoes that had remained in the box until then. Red really looked nice on you, but you hadn't noticed the slit from the hem to the thigh until now.

"As soon as I see your damn manager, I'll make her commit suicide!"

"You will see her in a few moments, but you will be too busy to be my fake girlfriend."

Norman had finally relaxed and still didn't convince you how he spoke. Or maybe you just couldn't stand him as a person.

"Norman Reedus, make sure you don't kiss me in public or I'll cut your head off."

"I'm deeply moved.", was all he said with a slight smirk, before you went to the car.

You had a vivid memory of what it was like to see the blinding flashes of paparazzi cameras from a distance, now it was an entirely different matter. The photographers were in front of you and surrounded you, but somehow you managed to keep your eyes open and have a smile on your face for the duration of the photos on the red carpet. Was it your pride again, or was it Norman's arm that surrounded you?

The walk was tough in those heels, and you only gave your face a break from smiling when you were in the projection room, where it was forbidden to bring cameras. The seats assigned to you were in the second row, where it would have been almost impossible for you to see the film. The actor was quick to brief you on the plot and the actors - before leaving to clear something up with his some friend. You sat on the velvet chair since the two were the only ones talking, but looked around for any other star to talk to later. However, you felt that you couldn't really be accepted in this world: Probably everyone would have thought that you were acting as a spy in different clothes and they would not have been completely wrong...

Norman came back to join you, as soon as the lights went out you enjoyed the movie in silence. The whole room did not open its mouth for these one and a half hours, just like a religious silence. Cinema is seen by many as an form of art after all...

When the lights went back on, you were thrown back into the real world with confusion, like every time you saw a movie that caught your attention. The actor got up before offering his hand to help you. You weren't out of the huge room yet when Jeffrey Dean Morgan came out of nowhere and slightly punched Norman's shoulder. He was shaken a little, but recovered as soon as he saw who it was. They joined in a hug and he introduced you to Jeffrey.  
Once they were done with talking, he wanted to led you to a nearby after-party. But the "accident" happened as soon as you both went out there.

"Hello, can you answer a few questions?", an interviewer managed to get past the bodyguard wall and followed you. "What is it like to be Norman Reedus' new girlfriend?"

You stopped and turned to chase them away, but you were scared to see who the stalker was: It was the reporter for the Hollywood actors who worked with you in the editorial team... What was she doing here? Shouldn't they have sent newbies to this type of stuff?  
She was also surprised when she saw you, but she did not miss this opportunity.

"Do you know what the papers would give to find out how things really are?", she grinned viciously.

Fortunately, Norman joined you and allowed himself to save you from the wicked witch. You met a lot of people in a few hours, people you wouldn't forget. Everyone knew what your job was and yet, on the contrary to your expectations, they weren't frightened and talked amiably to you until it was midnight. Maybe you really could get used to it?


	5. Chapter 5

The ringtone from your phone woke you up the next morning.  
You were laying on your side, one arm on Norman's chest, covered in a black tank top. Shouldn't he be sleeping in the other room? Confused, you rolled onto the bed to find yourself on your stomach and, still sleepy, you reached out to your phone, which with no light on, urged you to answer.

"Hello?", you mumbled still half asleep. 

You tried in vain to sit up, but the headache forced you to go back to bed. 

"Do you know that you're a trending topic on Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram and the only topic of discussion on forums devoted to The Walking Dead?", your best friend asked you on the other end of the phone.

"Trending topic? The Walking Dead? What the hell are you talking about?"

Unfortunately, you were not on Twitter. Obviously she had tried to convince you to join another social networks, but you continued to categorically refuse: I had never liked informing others of your actions because Facebook was enough for you.

"On Twitter they only talk about you and Norman Reedus!", she gave a little scream, as if to emphasize the obvious answer.

"Yes... About that..."

"You should have told me that! Why didn't you? You have to tell me everything! I called to you to talk to you about something - by the way, can't I just stay here for a few days? I saw that you weren't here, I turned on the PC and see your photos everywhere! The dress is wonderful by the way, did he give it to you?"

You opened your mouth to answer when there was a knock on the door, at which point you had to get back on your feet. You were only covered in a big white shirt, probably the one Norman had worn the night before, and you had no idea how you got around to wearing it. Maybe you had a little too much to drink the previous night. 

"I'll call you back as soon as I get out of here!"

You closed the call and, after closing the bedroom door behind me, ran to the waiter who had just entered. He was carrying a cart that was covered with breakfast.

"Oh... Good morning, who ordered it?"

He just shrugged. "They told me to deliver that too." 

He gave you a tiny envelope before leaving with a smile. You looked at him for a second, then focused on the note: 'The plan worked. I will wait for you in the hall.'

You tossed the note behind you and turned around just to find a freshly awakened Norman Reedus watching you. You were starting to appreciate his strange masculine fascination with the atmosphere of a bad boy around him.  
He took a few steps and ran a hand through his hair without opening his mouth. For a moment you feared he was going to kiss you, so for no reason he reached behind you to get something to eat. He pursed his lips, took a step back, and took the note, read it, and let it fall to the floor again.

"Do you think we should talk?", he asked, his voice still sleepy.

"Talking about what?"

"Last night, obviously."

Oh, last night. But what happened that night? No matter how hard you tried to think, you couldn't remember. You still had some doubts as to whether more or nothing had happened, but it didn't seem like a good idea to ask.

"I don't think so. You know... Just pretend nothing happened.", you nodded, trying to sound convincing. 

Then you snuck into the room, where your clothes were still kept, and nibbled on some toast. You heard him fumble with the food and eat something, nothing else.

The bathroom appeared to be quite comfortable at the time. So you locked yourself in it and got dressed, not knowing when you would be back on the plane and if his manager would come with you all the way back. For some strange reason you were thinking that you hadn't felt at all uncomfortable in front of the actor in these conditions. With the slightly smeared makeup from your very relaxed way of sleeping, your hair slightly tousled, and, last but not least, you slept in his shirt. Needless to say, how your mind had the courage to bring you close enough to hug him at night... You had to remind yourself at all costs what the hell had happened because that thought was killing you slowly.

"Y/N, we have to go soon or we will miss the plane, are you in there?" He sounded a lot calmer than before and less angry. Almost awakening.

"Just give me ten minutes and I'm ready!"

Yet ten minutes turned into twenty as you got out of the bathroom. He waited for you with crossed arms in the armchair in the suite lobby and drummed his foot on the large carpet that covered most of the floor. He was nervous and gave you a dirty look as soon as he saw you arrive.

You went to the door and opened it with a shrug. "Well, weren't you in a hurry?"

His manager was speaking to another agent from the same company when you both reached her. She nodded to Norman and then walked away, followed by his watchful gaze.

"Come on lovebirds, hold hands, kiss, show some love!"

The look you both gave her was anything but loving.

“Okay, maybe not love… But what about some friendship? Come on Norman, you're an actor!", she smiled falsely and led you out of the hotel.

Paparazzi, photographers and journalists awaited you there, including a reporter from the same magazine you were working for. You pretended that nothing had happened, that you no longer belonged to this world without realizing the consequences that this night would have on your career and reputation. The trip to the airport was exhausting as you weren't left alone for a second. However, the situation calmed down once you were safely within the curved walls of the plane. You sank into the comfortable premium chair, waiting eight hours of silence. But no, Norman didn't want to give you some rest. He didn't look at you when you woke up, but he had no problem staying only an inch away from your face. You could probably have stood naked in front of him, of course with a few meters to separate you and he wouldn't look. It was just uncertainty, the fear of what you might do if you stood too close to him to command you, because even though you'd always thought he wasn't much as a person - and you still thought so -, it was just this hatred that convinced you he wasn't that beautiful, while you almost lived with him now, but you couldn't deny it. At least not for yourself.

You spent the journey through those thoughts without drinking, watching the people around you and his manager and Norman whispering to each other. You should have exchanged a few words with the actor before going home. And you emphasized "you should" because they drove you straight back to your apartment, where the lights were on.

Norman looked at the apartment for a moment, then turned from the front seat around to speak to you.

"I didn't think you were living with anyone."

Yes, you neither... You got out of the car without opening your mouth and wondered if your boyfriend was looking for a kick in the ass or just your best friend. When you saw H/C hair, you looked back into the car window.

"Norman, would you mind walking upstairs with me for a moment?"

He just looked at you grimly.

"I know how it sounds, but there is a friend of mine who would like to meet you." You looked at him hopefully for a positive answer that wasn't long in coming.

"Okay, come on, I'll take a taxi on the way back..."

"Do you remember the woman who met you?"

"I doubt I can forget about her."

"Yes..."

You put the key in the lock and yanked the door open, ready to be run over by your best friend.  
It was like letting go of an animal that had been locked up too long. She literally jumped on top of you, clung to you and screamed.

"Tell me everything!", she yelled, without noticing the frightened Norman standing behind you at first.

"Norman she is...-"

"Hey there.", he interrupted you by holding out his hand.

She shivered, grabbed it, and mimicked a smile, while most likely cursing herself.

"It's... It's a pleasure.", she swallowed, withdrew her hand and put it on her chest.

"I'm going to get something to eat. The jet lag killed me. Do you want something? "

"Yes, thank you.", he shouted, as he was practically dragged away by your best friend to speak to him.

“Oh my god, you have to tell me about the new season of The Walking Dead! I can't wait to see it! So tell me more about the script!"  
It was amazing how she knew more about the actor you wrote about than you did. Depressing, actually.

From the entrance you went into the living room, took out something to eat and waited for it to warm up a little. In the kitchen, you'd always been good at cooking the basics, the essentials, especially since you ate outside the house a lot. You had been on the plane for 8 hours, hadn't eaten anything for almost 10 hours, which would have made even a piece of bread irresistible, that's why you limited yourself to offering him something fast.

You ran to wash your hands before taking the meat from the fridge put it in a pan over low heat as your friend's hysterical screams merged with Norman's deep but sincere laughs, a situation that made you think that she should have been his fake girlfriend. After a few minutes, when you had set the table for 2, they came smiling and sat down, her drinking a glass of Coke and him over a plate of a steaming steak.  
You ate in religious silence, with your friend staring intently at the actor while he devoured his food. As soon as you finished, you left the plate in the sink and ran to get your phone, remembering that you had turned it off. On the screen appeared a call from an unknown number, another from your boyfriend and a message from him.

"Norman, do you know this number?", you asked and dictated it almost screaming.

"It's my manager!", he snapped back with his mouth full.

Her? And what the hell did she want from you? You would call her back the next morning, but you would definitely turn down any further engagement proposals... The message was from your boyfriend, and as you read about the dinner invitation, which most likely was originally prepared for the call, a puzzled look was painted on your face. Your best friend saw it and joined you.

"Is everything okay, did something happen?"

You just gave her the phone.

“Oh my god, dude..." She knew exactly the relationship you had once built with the man, she also knew about the developments and the breakup that had followed, more than once she had almost ordered you to delete his messages everywhere.

"I could have had another coffee with him and he maybe would've mentioned that he missed me and maybe everything would be good again... And I was so stupid and ran away...", you shrugged.

You turned your gaze from your friend's accusing face to the figure of the man who was slowly straightening up, a little unsure where to put the plate.

"Is that why you were late yesterday?"

"Yeah, not that you should be interested in my private life anyway."

"I would have sworn he is jealous of this fake relationship stuff."

"Which I won't take part in anymore."

"So aren't you really together?", your best friend broke in.

You stared at her. "What the hell are you thinking? Never!"

Norman didn't seem to like your comment. "There would be nothing wrong with it."

“Nothing, yet we can't even talk! By the way…”, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into the bedroom. Your friend being left behind had a big question mark painted on her face.

"...We need to talk."

"Yes, I figured.", he whispered questioningly, starting to look around, confused.

“That ' fake girlfriend' thing was not in the contract!"

"So what? Should I take you as an accessory?"

"I just wish I didn't have to pretend I was your girlfriend as I have a good reputation to keep!", you screamed in anger that you had been suppressing all day. 

"You're right. I should have looked for another solution to my problems instead of dragging you into it. It was my mistake. Forgive me."

With these words he suddenly left your apartment...

But you immediately remembered that there was another twenty-five days waiting for you. And when you went to sleep, and closed your eyes you finally remembered the previous night and what happened between you two:

You lied in the suite and laughed like crazy. In each hand you had a bottle of champagne, from which you were drinking directly, without the use of glasses. From the party you both went straight back to the hotel and from there to the room, from where you called the room service to get something to drink while you discussed the article you were supposed to write. All prejudices about him went away along with your mental stability for a few hours, and you were almost glad it happened. He seemed calm, relaxed, he was happy. He was just himself. You stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, then you kneeled on the bed and pull the dress up to my thighs so you had more freedom to move and took another sip from the bottle. Unlike that afternoon, you managed to get rid of the red dress, stayed drunk in your underwear, and ready to go to bed, but Norman didn't seem to think so. For a second you feared the alcohol has gotten into his head way too far, but after unbuttoning his shirt, he helped you put it on and then pin the buttons in the middle, the ones on the stomach, avoiding the buttons above and under it. You smiled at his kindness, touching his face with one hand when he looked into your eyes. Synchronously you got closer, feeling his hands approaching your back, without touching it. With a sigh, you threw away the part of you that held you back from him, blaming everything on the alcohol. Your lips touched the corner of his mouth in a kiss that described your indecision more than words. He understood, nodded softly, but finally hugged you.


	6. Chapter 6

The kitchen smelled like coffee the next morning. And you were confused. Coffee you didn't ask for. In your apartment. At 8 o'clock in the morning?

"Oh, you're awake! Good! I made the coffee and the pancakes! You eat pancakes in the morning, don't you?"

"Please be quiet!", you almost yelled at your best friend to shut her up.

You had woken up to a call from your boss about the news I were gathering: He had basically forbidden you from completing your "meet Norman and then just run away" plan. So, you couldn't just ask him questions because everyone knew the answers. You had to go "downstairs". Yet you had no idea what it meant, you were too angry to ask for more.

"Cute!", she suddenly said, pointing to your plaid pajamas. Okay, it wasn't very "grown up", but it was comfy.

You gave up and sat down at the table with a sigh, without taking refuge in the bathroom first.

"Why are you awake at this time anyway?"

Your best friend had always been financially supported by her father, but for some time she had decided to work as a waitress for six hours in the afternoons, so she had no reason to wake up this early in the morning.

"Didn't Norman tell you?"

"What should he have told me?"

"That I come with you today!" And with that said, she showed one of her brightest smiles.

What? Did he trust her so much after half an hour of conversation that he would let her snoop around his house? Even if she's your best friend?

"He asked me to help him reread a part of the contract that he wasn't quite sure about and added that you would never accept it."

You took a bite of the pancake and nodded. “Okay, yes, no problem. Well, if it's not a problem for him, then I don't see why it should be a problem for me."

Yeah right, lie to yourself...

"Great!" She jumped up from her chair excitedly and began cleaning the kitchen. At 8 o'clock in the damn morning...

The automatic gate opened as your car pulled down the lane and let you in without much attention. You parked and saw that Norman was already waiting for you both and was waiting with a smile at the door. You just couldn't understand this instant connection between him and your friend. Did he think you would include this act of immense generosity in the article? If yes, he was very wrong. Your friend jumped out of the car as soon as you stopped but you stayed in a little longer, perhaps to better watch the man's reaction to her happiness. You looked at the two of them greeting each other with a hug. When she entered the house, you took a sip of coffee from the coffee you had taken with you while the actor stood on the door jamb a second longer to look at you.

The house hadn't changed at all since your last visit. No really, every item was in the previous position which made you ask yourself if he even cleaned every now and then. You heard your friend's voice, but didn't look for her, since she had probably been taken on a tour around the actor's house, which you refused at first. As usual, you threw the shoulder strap of your bag over the armchair, on which you then sat down and waited to be greeted at least by Norman.  
This situation was strange to say the least and the last thing you wanted to do was think back to THAT night. In fact, it seemed so far from reality that you believed it was all a dream, or rather, you tried to convince yourself that THIS was all a dream, even though you knew it had really happened like everything happens right now. But it couldn't be, you couldn't really want to kiss him because that would have involved so many things that you didn't want to accept. On the other hand, you were comforted by the fact that 3/4 of the world's female population wanted to kiss him, and not only that... But he was right, you had to talk and you sure couldn't do it in front of your friend. You knew she's your best friend and you should have told her everything and revealed every detail, but you weren't ready to admit it to yourself, let alone her.

“Everything is so fantastic, I have no words! It all seems so unreal. Me, in Norman Reedus' house!"

Those words were followed by a giggle that literally bordered next to hysteria. Norman took everything as a big compliment and laughed immediately afterwards when they got to the living room.

"Good morning, Y/N.”, he greeted you without even looking and walked past you like you were some piece of boring furniture in the room.

Maybe you had been a little harsh to him the night before, but you had to get things straight and there was no way you could be kind about it.  
Your friend's gaze wandered from you to him and then back from him to you, then she shrugged and sat down on the seat across from you.

“Did you see how beautiful the bathrooms are?"

"No, I did not have a chance to see the bathrooms. Due to my position, I am only allowed to visit the bathrooms for guests on this floor." In saying so, your attention had shifted to the figure of Norman, who was finally looking at you. But with a gaze you couldn't define. What the hell was wrong with him?

“It really is a shame, believe me. And then the rooms, oh the other rooms!"

She went on like this for a few minutes, until now you barely listened to her words as the actor seemed to be concentrating more on her than ever before on the questions you had asked him on the first day.  
So you all spent the morning like this, between frivolous discussions and questions on the same level, at least frivolously compared to what you should have done for work. But you still wrote down everything he revealed to your friend because people love even the most useless details. Some gossip which helps to get a better idea of the thing, person or event the article would be talking about. At lunch you convinced your friend to leave the house to eat and even there she only talked about Norman, so at the end of lunch you silently thanked one of those gods up there... Because she finally closed her mouth. She had to go to work, you took her home for her to get her uniform and then took her to the diner, but you just didn't feel like going back to the actor right away, facing the only subject that you didn't care for at all. Him. You were walking throughthe streets of the city, thinking about what had happened in the past few days. Work was work and you couldn't spend another twenty days doing anything in the world under these conditions, especially since you didn't want to study Norman Reedus the way you wanted to, the way it needed to be... Jokes aside, rehearsing for other films while you were at home wasn't what you needed because at that point you could have stayed at home yourself and watched the interviews non-stop on TV. The alternative, however, was trips like two days ago, in hotel rooms with beds that smelled like him while the two of you were too close together. A fairy tale that would last a few hours. Oddly enough, that idea didn't scare you, but would a couple of hours be enough? Wouldn't you have wished all day that you could just be yourself again and finally be given two bottles of champagne, a soft mattress and a kiss? Who knows...

You saw the man from behind reading the script that you were still unfamiliar with. He had to get up to open the gate for you and then left the main door slightly ajar, but he was immediately back on the couch to read, the same couch on your first day. You trembled at the memory.

"What's your problem this morning?"

He didn't even flinch when he heard your voice, nor did he look up. You prayed for him that it was just the script that was extremely interesting, that he couldn't even look at your face. You didn't sit down, you stood behind him and pretended to read some of these words, which were written so small that even the thought of the stuff written there was impossible for you.

"You say that as if we normally understand each other.", he mumbled after a few seconds.

"It's not about getting along, it's about working with each other, and I didn't care about you this morning. You couldn't listen to my friend and listen to me at the same time or-..."

"...-look at you at the same time.", he finished the sentence the way he wished it had actually ended.  
"That's what you meant, didn't you?"

You cleared your throat. “I didn't say that. Don't misrepresent my words. We need to talk."

He finally turned to you and looked incredibly tired. He sighed, looked at you again, and turned back to the script.  
"About what? You were right yesterday, I shouldn't have taken advantage of it and blah blah blah... You see? We talked."

He forced a smile, his eyes still on the pages.

“No, you got mad yesterday and you are an asshole. I'm just doing my job, I've told you a thousand times so never dare to ignore me again like you did today. And what the hell were you thinking? Inviting her? There is no way that you can take her as a replacement because she will let you do that and when the paparazzi are fed up with you and your wrong life, worried and full of mistakes, you will hurt her! I was stupid enough to fall into your little trap and what's the result? You saw me naked damn it!", you screamed as he got up from the couch, walked around and joined you in amusement with a smirk.

"Oh, so you remember now? A thoughtful woman like you would surely have wanted to talk about it, so I just assumed the alcohol effect wasn't completely gone. And yet you weren't naked, but in your underwear, and I was a gentleman."

“You're just lucky my boss doesn't want me to do the interview anymore.", you revealed with a snort.

"Oh yeah? He really must love me then."

"Unlike me.", you said and he came closer.

"Kiss me.", he whispered and you shivered.

"What?"

"I said kiss me. I know you want to do it."

He had no idea how right he was, so right that your brain hurt.  
"I do not want to."

"Yes, you do. You want it because this morning you thought you forgot everything and felt you were in second place and I am sorry. You want it because you wish we'd kissed at the hotel that night, but it's not my fault it didn't happen. So fix it. Kiss me."

You looked him in the eye, breathed faster, and your face was imperceptibly closer to his. "I can't..."

"You can't? You can. It'll be our little secret. One kiss and you'll come back to hate me. Believe me."

You were completely unable to move now. He raised one hand and wrapped it around your neck. He seemed to want to control his every move so much that he followed them with his eyes. His other free hand moved a little from his side as he grabbed your waist, making sure to get you as close to his body as possible.

"If you don't kiss me, I'll do it."

And so he did. He leaned over to you so gently and his lips touched yours in a way that drove you crazy. It was easy, and yet for a moment it felt like everything you needed. He didn't go any further and so didn't you. You failed to really kiss him like a kiss must have been.

"You deny yourself too many things." The fact that his voice was a little hoarse made you smile.

"You're probably right.", you said with a smile.

Norman released you from that hug when you let out a disapproving groan.  
He walked away and returned to his previous spot on the couch with the script in hand.

You nodded softly to yourself, sat down in the chair and watched the actor.

"You look like a teenager learning for an exam you forgot to study for.", you started after a while.

"Given the situation, it's not good, is it?"

"Definitely not."

You left around seven when it was time to pick your friend up from her work as she had no way to go home after accompanying her. You didn't tell her anything about what had happened, renewed the invitation to the actor's house which she accepted with a shout and spent the rest of the evening talking about actor's and success...


	7. Chapter 7

"So, what do you think?", you asked your best friend when you had applied the lipstick.

Even that morning when breakfast was ready at eight you weren't really happy, but you still hadn't been able to speak to her about the rehearsal she and Norman would attend that afternoon.  
And for what? Did he really have to use his acting skills to possibly ruin your friend's vision? Wasn't that one of those things that come automatically? Hell, he was probably just trying to be nice, and the fact that he was nice to everyone but you made you nervous.

"About what?", she asked when she had finished preparing the sandwiches for lunch, because yes, she had decided you two would eat there. As if you haven't spent enough time there already.

"You know... Do you think the time you spend with Norman is a good idea?"

"Yes, but please don't worry."

She showed one of her best smiles as she grabbed the sandwiches and put them in her pocket.  
You nodded, but not convinced. You knew how much she adored him and you didn't want her to feel bad, even if nothing assured you that he would make fun of her, in fact everything seemed to indicate that he was enjoying her company. Sure, he's an asshole for kissing you, but neither of you knew him really well, although you didn't think he was capable of 'such' behavior.

Your mobile phone rang when you parked the car. This time your friend saw the name of your ex on the phone, so she stayed with you in the car, but you didn't feel like answering, so you waited for him to end the call before you got out.

"You need to talk to him, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I'll call him back later. It's too early in the morning, I can't take it right now."

"You should give him at least the chance to show you-..."

“What? That he has changed? He'll never change."

You were a few yards away from the entrance to the house, and you silently thanked Norman for choosing to stay in the house that morning because of the cold weather.

"Do you want a man like Norman Reedus?", your best friend whispered and grabbed your arm.

She must have read the look on your face well because she didn't wait for an answer. "Come on Y/N, I know you more than you do. Do you really think you can fool me?"

"Fool you? Why should I?"

"Yeah right. I saw how you look at him. And maybe you're not in love with him, because I think you're still holding onto your ex but you actually want Norman."

Could you argue? No you couldn't.

"I know something happened, I don't know what, but it was inevitable.", she said and tapped your arm lightly with her elbow and laughed. “I mean, a hotel night with Norman Reedus? Who could resist?"

You laughed with her and followed her inside, where you found the actor and a figure taller than him, wearing a dark coat. Dark hair, dark eyes... No, it couldn't be him.

"Oh, are you the reporter?", the man asked after turning around and pointing at you while looking at Norman.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan took a few steps towards you and reached out a hand, shook yours, and came over to whisper in your ear.

"I'll be careful not to compromise around you." he commented seriously, but you smiled.

Step by step, thanks to your position at work, you followed his every little movement and gradually became a huge fan of his.  
Jeffrey now turned to your friend, who had long tried to get you to understand her point of view. She liked his acting, but she didn't care about his part in The Walking Dead. She answered his handshake and went into the kitchen with Norman. You sat down in the usual armchair, followed by the other actor. He looked at you from above for a few seconds, then approached your face and put his hands on the armrests of the chair. You frowned and he smiled at you, almost disturbing.

"Don't play with Norman, he's a good friend."

He stayed in that position, too close to be comfortable with you, but the tone he used had something that managed to comfort you.  
Norman, followed by your friend, returned to the living room and cleared his throat at this point, forcing Jeffrey to get up and sit on the couch.

"I was just telling… Y/N, right? That I read her articles and was pleasantly surprised. But don't worry, I don't want to steal her."

"Nice of you, but maybe a journalist who follows you and doesn't let you do what you normally do would help.", Norman said with a laugh.

“Are you joking? You are the one in control, especially in hotels.”

And he wasn't all wrong. The actor and you exchanged a knowing look, you both laughed, then said goodbye to Jeffrey, who was actually just leaving. The two hugged and talked a few minutes apart. Another handshake with you and your friend and he left.

"Y/N, the mobile phone. Your phone rings."

You shook your head to recover from the daydream as you just watched the lines of the parquet while you absently listened to the two rehearsing the script for a new episode of the show. Now they were both focused on you, or rather more on your phone vibrating and ringing in your pocket. The moment you picked it up and read your ex boyfriend's name Norman said something that worried you a bit.

“We can console ourselves with dinner later, how about that?”

You got up from the chair and got your phone, walking away and found yourself at the entrance before you answered.

"Hi, I saw your call, but I just didn't have time to call you back."

There's no point in justifying yourself.

"I know you work, don't worry."

You could almost hear him smiling from the other side.

"I just wanted to renew my invitation to dinner tonight when you're free."

"Yeah, I'm free. Will you pick me up around eight?"

"Eight. Great, I'll see you then!"

"Thank you, see you too."

You stood still for a few moments trying in vain to understand why you had accepted, and when you returned to the living room, Norman and your friend were still arguing about dinner.

"Are you coming too, Y/N?", the actor asked you.

You showed the phone as if that was a plausible explanation.

"Your ex?", asked your friend.

You nodded. "Yeah. I told him to come over at eight."

Norman took a deep breath and then released a smile. "Looks like it's just you and me then."

"Apparently yes.", she confirmed with a laugh.

Would you have had time to shower? Maybe yes, if you had done it fast enough. Then what should you wear? Hell, he didn't even tell you where he was going to take you! Your friend was decidedly more relaxed. However, since the premiere with Norman you had started to notice some people outside the house at the most absurd hours, and photos in the newspapers had confirmed the paparazzi pursuit. Would they follow you tonight too? Hopefully not.

Once at the apartment, you started looking in the closet for something that wasn't too fancy, and a casual black dress seemed ideal. You threw yourself in the shower, dryed your hair and got dressed. Your ex was on time as always.

“You look … beautiful, Y/N. As always."

He wasn't bad looking either, neither too elegant nor too simple.

"Thank you.", you mumbled with a smile.

The trip wasn't that long, but the silence made those ten minutes in the car a little too much. Fortunately, you relaxed over dinner, talked about the past few months, how you got this important job, and how he eventually graduated and started to really work. Just for you, he said, but how could you believe him? He couldn't be in love with you forever and you decided to tell him at the end of the meeting with him.

“I will never stop trying to win you back. Even if you make me compete with him."

"I don't force you to do anything... And against whom?"

"Norman Reedus!"

"Are you for real? Or are you just stupid?"

"I saw the photos from the premiere, how beautiful and gorgeous you were looking next to him. But I won't give up."

"What point are you trying to make? I haven't loved you in a long time and I think I made that pretty clear."

"How can you be sure?"

How should you be sure? You had no idea. You just knew. The person he once became wasn't the same person you originally fell in love with, but when you realized it was too late, the love was gone and there was no way you could leave without hurting him. When you said goodbye, he promised you that you would meet again and that he would never stop loving you. The usual phrases people say when they firmly believe it...  
You shook your head and ate the cheesecake in front of you again. Maybe you just couldn't accept this situation, you couldn't swallow his decision that seemed a bit controversial. He looked at you for a few seconds, then turned away. You probably judged the situation too quickly, but would you still be able to forgive him for everything he did to you? It's always been like that: He did something to make you angry or sad because he simply wanted to and then worked hard to make it up. A toxic relationship... On one hand you found it extremely cute, on the other hand it was terribly irritating to yourself and to others. You wondered how he could be so persistent, despite all the times you'd kicked him out of your life, all the times you told him you hate him, all the times you really hated him. That evening, however, you stopped asking, and the silence lasted until he asked if you wanted to go home. You nodded softly, he asked for the bill and paid, then you got back in the car and the journey was as quiet as before.

“I had a good evening. Thank you very much.", you still told him when you were in front of the house of your apartment. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, feeling him stiffen.  
"Good night."

At that point you got out of the car, clutching the black little bag that had been chosen for the evening in your hands, knowing that he would now probably never show up again.

"I can be pretty persistent, you know."  
He had got out of the car and went after you. And he had made it so quiet that you didn't notice anything.

"Please...", you started.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. Accept it. Accept me."

"Don't..."

You would have repeated the same things that you had repeated to him all evening, if only he had let you... If only he hadn't kissed you. However, there were still two meters separating you. How could you not tell that the distance was gone in a moment? And now you could feel his hands on your hips, his lips moving gently against yours.  
Home...  
It tasted like home. It had the familiar, pleasant smell of a place you've lived for so long that you don't even remember the last time you slept in another bed. Being away from him had been like resting in another bed.  
Yet what you felt was not love but fear. Afraid of never being loved again like he loved you. And fears have to be fought. You did it by running away from his arms, into the building and up the stairs towards the apartment. You knew you had made a terrible mistake when you kissed him back, but you thanked that weird feeling for 'waking you up'.

You were taking off your makeup in the bathroom and were sitting on the edge of the tub when you heard the door open and close. Your best friend was back and when she saw you she immediately looked pretty excited.

"Did you turn on your PC?", she asked you in a reproachful tone.

"No, I just got back, why?"

"Why? Are you really asking me why?"

"Should I be worried?"

The answer that got away from her lips resembled a grunt.  
"I'll go to bed, go and see 'why'. Damn, Norman was so close to go after him and beating the shit out of him.", she sighed, kissed your cheek and went into the living room.

You were home for about an hour and it would be midnight soon so the computer was the last thing you were interested in right now. You had undressed and put on a short-sleeved shirt, three sizes larger because your beloved pajamas were in the washing machine. You'd taken it easy, so just ten minutes after your friends arrival you went into the room to find out what was causing Norman's nervousness. It was photos. The laptop screen showed close-ups of a kiss between your ex and you. The speed at which they were published on the internet was amazing and disturbing at the same time. More surprising was how Norman found out about it, but nothing beat the actor's reaction. What was he mad about?

Suddenly you heard a constant knock on the door and got up, knowing that your friend would not wake up from her heavy sleep, even though her room was closer to the entrance. The digital clock showed the time: 1:56. You moved the covers away quickly, more concerned that something serious had happened, putting a hand against the door.

"Who is there?"

"Norman.", the actor answered from the other side.

You hesitated a moment before opening the door. "Norman?"

He went in and you closed the door behind him, in his hand a pack of cigarettes.

"Do you need something?", you asked him as you lowered your eyes for a second.

You then raised them to meet his in the dim light of the room.  
His gaze had studied every detail of you since you opened the door: From the short striped stockings to the too big shirt to the hair.

“I don't have time for games, Y/N."

It was just a moment, a moment to memorize this scene and realize how absurd and out of this world everything that has happened in the last six days was. One moment. The cigarettes he was holding fell to the floor. Norman pulled you to him to kiss you like you had never been kissed before, with knowledge and greed, but above all with the ability that only he - and you were sure of it - lirerally possessed you. His hands reached your back to hold you tighter and he did not let go, as a sign of the obsession that had emerged that night. That confidence threw you off. Guided by his steps, you stepped back until you felt your back against the wall. Your hands were now busy in his hair. You caught fire and the situation did not improve when you felt his cold touch from the night breeze getting under your shirt. By now his lips had left yours and started to touch your neck, when he suddenly stopped. He kept smiling and looked you in the eye and gave you a quick kiss before leaving. It took you a moment to relax and realize what had just happened.

"Y/N, what's wrong?", your roommate asked and looked sleepily out of her room.

"Nothing, nothing, go back to sleep."

She joined you and you saw her looking at something on the floor.  
"Okay, I'll go to bed then." The shadow of a smile appeared on her face.  
"Good night!"

It wasn't until she was gone that you took the opportunity of looking for what she had noticed earlier.  
A pack of cigarettes.


	8. Chapter 8

"Y/N!"

Your boss greeted you as soon as you walked into the office.  
It was strange to be back after a week, like your first time on your long-awaited vacation, or worse, like you'd been fired. The thought of having to be away for three more weeks was unsettling: You knew it would be difficult to come back then. Also, given the 'Norman Reedus kissed me' situation, you were more than certain that your article would be compromised. Yes, you were a terrible journalist...

"Hi... How are you?"

You gave him a clumsy hug before turning to look around. The same quiet day at the office, your colleague - the woman who hated you so much - was not there; she was probably busy photographing other colleagues with other actors. Another colleague was waiting for you cross-legged in a corner of your boss's office with a glass of whiskey in her hand. Whiskey seemed to appeal to everyone, so it seemed.  
The liquid made circular movements in the glass, trying to escape but the crystal walls prevented it. She seemed to want to help by twisting the glass in her hands, but it wasn't enough.

"Y/N.", she greeted you as cold and distant as ever.

"Hello.", you replied and imitated her.

Your boss's gaze wandered from you to her and then stayed still on the alcohol.

"Come on, calm down, both of you, we're here for mutual interests!"

“I'm sorry, but Norman Reedus is not our common interest. The article is.", you interrupted him, self-righteously but professionally. At least that's what you liked to think.

He folded his hands behind his back and took a few steps in your direction. "Y/N... Y/N... What should I do with you?"

Stupid rhetorical questions. He poured you a glass of whiskey and handed it to you. You took it and took just a sip before putting it down on his desk.  
You never liked alcohol. You suppose it was your father's fault who, during a bad time in the family, started abusing the alcohol supply a little too much.

"The photos say something else.", the high voice of the woman woke you up.

Your boss laughed, but his laughter had always been low and hollow, and that, along with the excessive use of cigars, resulted in a loose cough.

"Yes, the photos..."

"The photos are exactly what you need, right? A scandal that distracts him and the world from the public scenes. These photos, along with the article, will interesting for his image. 'I'm a good guy, I'm not mad, and I'm a great, polite actor. Work with me!' That's exactly what the article will say about him!"

You refused to sit down when your boss silently suggested.  
The woman looked down and sighed.

"I just want to warn you that I'm not going to be on a reality show."

Your colleague smiled ruefully when she answered you. "For you it's a reality show, for him it's real life."

You had never fully understood the world of entertainment, and you might never have understood it simply because you weren't interested in being a part of it. You just wanted to do what you enjoyed and did well. You wouldn't let any actor - no, not even Norman Reedus - ruin your dream.  
The silence continued, the woman looked at you, your boss drank thoughtfully.

"We have decided that the publication will change.", your boss suddenly mumbled.

"What do you mean?", you asked with a frown.

“It's going to be weekly, sort of a column, just for this month. You started work on Monday, so every Tuesday a few pages of the article appear that you can group together over these seven days."

"Tuesday? Boss... It's Sunday. You can't tell me to write pages of Norman Reedus' articles in one day."

"Yes, he can, he just did it."

Why was that woman talking when she shouldn't have? Did she have a desire to be hated?

You snorted. If you had to write everything down by Monday afternoon, you couldn't go to Norman for the next days.  
You agreed that it would be best for both of you - or rather, you - to spend some time to ... think. Just to think. Hell, you should have called your Ex too.

"Okay see you tomorrow.", you mumbled, adjusted the shoulder strap, and left the office.

You realized how difficult these days would be when you got home after lunch and found the house empty. Not only could you not work, you also had to stay in your empty apartment until the evening your best friend returned. You didn't think you'd get so used to Norman's presence. A week had passed, less than a week in fact, and yet you had spent days with him. It seemed absurd, just the thought that you might miss it.

"I need a cat...", you noticed when you tossed the bag on the sofa and took the laptop from the living room to the bedroom, where you were sitting cross-legged on the bed.

The photos appeared. The computer had been turned off the previous night, but as soon as you reopened the site the photos had reappeared, along with what you had experienced the night before.  
Your Ex had been a gentleman and you were sure he would really make you happy, but was he the man you wanted? Who would make your knees shake? The one who'd make your stomach flutter all the time with a kiss? Or was that the actor? But could Norman really be the man of you life? No, he couldn't. He had been divorced for less than a year and had a child. He probably still loved his wife, despite everything he'd kissed you. You didn't even had to ask yourself questions to know what needed to be done. That is, what would you do when that day was over?

It was hours of intense writing. Intense writing that literally led to nowhere. What appeared on my page was two lines. The title. Real life writer problems...

"Y/N, what exactly are you doing?"

"I'm staring at the screen, can't you see it?"

The elbow rested on the leg, the chin rested on the hand. The only visible movement from your body was that of the eyelids, which opened and closed.

"Interesting... And why?"

"Because I have to write."

"So you write with your eyes?"

"Maybe, who know's? Maybe my eyes have more imagination than my mind now? Would my eyes write better than my hands?", you snorted and let yourself fall back on the sofa.

Your best friend sat down next to you and looked at you. "What happened?"

You closed your eyes and folded your hands on your growling stomach. "I have to deliver a part of the story by tomorrow evening."

"But shouldn't it be in 30 days?" She also lay down and continued to look at you, confused.

"Yes, they divided them in installments of 7."

"Oh. So... Did you hear from Norman today?"

"No, should I have?"

"Well, after last night..."

You searched for her face, which feigned confusion, but after looking at her you understood. She had spoken to him.

"Nothing happened last night."   
You sat up again and saw the actor's cigarette package laying on the chair in the corner of the room.

“I heard you, don't pretend nothing happened. You know you can tell me about it, I won't tell him anything. I promise it."

“I'm just confused, okay. There's my Ex... And then there's Norman... And they both kiss me. But I know him better while I don't know Norman. He is a stranger to me. How can I like a stranger?"

“You don't know a person if you sit down and ask them questions. Have you ever thought that you might know him better than you actually do?"

She grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

"I can't tell you who to choose, I can only confess that I only 'fraternized' with Norman because from the moment I saw you at the Premiere, I knew you would be perfect together. Don't let silly prejudice influence you. Do what you think is the best."

She stood up smiling before leaving the room and closed the door behind her.

"I hate you you know?", you yelled after her.

"Just because I am the voice of the truth!", she replied laughing and you laughed with her.

The next morning you woke up even more tired than when you went to bed. Quick breakfast, strolling through the streets of the city, and returning home. You'd found enough inspiration to sit on the living room sofa next to your friend, who was watching some TV, just to torture you from writing properly.

Your hands were running fast on the keyboard, you were finally exhausted and you couldn't risk getting lost because of something stupid on TV.  
The sudden ring of the bell silenced everything. You looked at your friend, but she shook her head. You ended the article and closed the Laptop while she got up and went to the door.  
It was your Ex.  
Your friend reached the sofa again, turned off the television, and locked herself in the bedroom. Thank you for your help, dear friend...

"Hey, I was hoping to find you at home."

"Yes, I had a kind of vacation, only two days."

"Great..."

"More or less.", you smiled sheepishly when you got up.

He walked up to you and soon there were only a few inches left between you. You had to think then you had to understand what you really wanted.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the kiss from the other night. You went away so fast that-..."

You rose on tiptoe, reached his lips, and put your arms around his neck, feeling his mouth curve in a smile before returning the kiss. The same feelings returned. You felt safe, you felt that you made the right choice, you felt that he was the only one who could make you happy.

"I'm not going to ruin this opportunity, Y/N."

"I hope so.", you replied and put your face on his chest.

Hugging him like that again was strange, it was like you'd never left each other, it was like you were the college students in love again for the first time.  
He hugged you in his arms and you stayed there, then you moved into the room, chatting about things that weren't discussed on the evening of dinner, thinking back to old adventures with your friends.

From now on everything would be much easier: You loved him, he loved you... There weren't any questions ... right?


	9. Chapter 9

The smell of the city that morning was unbearable. Everything seemed to smell disgustingly sour or sweet. Even the smell of freshly baked croissants made you sick.  
The noises were too loud, people were screaming like they had never screamed before, they surrounded you and you felt suffocated.  
You clenched your fists, wanting to dig your nails into the flesh to feel physical pain, to give yourself a real reason to feel this way.  
When you reached a huge park you quickly went to a bench that was isolated from everyone. There's what you needed: loneliness.   
You put your elbows on your legs, buried your head in your hands, and fought the tears of anger. Everything had been fine the day before, Norman's manager had come by and gave you a smile. You had some arrangements for the following week's output and then had dinner, with her as peaceful as you had ever seen her. As you sat on that bench, you were sure that you just didn't understand everything for the moment.  
You went through what had happened moment to moment just to torment yourself a little more. Your best friend had tried to dissuade you from going to the actor's house this early because she was convinced he was still asleep. After convincing her that you would go to the usual cafe for breakfast before going to see him, she let you out. You had only had a coffee there, of course, then went to the actor and entered with the key his manager had given you the day before.  
You'd heard footsteps on the stairs, footsteps that you thought were his, not hers, but you'd noticed something strange anyway. They were light, too light to belong to a man. In fact, what you are seeing was a woman. A woman who only wore a black shirt, an all-too-familiar shirt, the same shirt you had held between your fingers to draw Norman to you the night he came to see you.

“Oh, hi, you have to be the reporter. Norman is getting dressed."

“Who is there?", you suddenly heard the actor ask.

"The journalist or whatever she is!", she cried and turned slightly to the first floor landing.

You had slowly withdrawn and then started running when you caught a glimpse of Norman's confused face.

Now sitting on the bench, you felt incredibly stupid for that reaction. It wasn't jealousy, no. But the shirt... And the woman... Did your best friend actually know? How long has this story been going on? From before your kiss? Before the premiere? From before your meeting? Your friend knew... That's why she didn't want you to go there. She knew, but how? And who the hell was was that woman?

You heard Norman running after you, but he stopped just before leaving the gate. After all, he had nothing to explain... You were with your Ex again, not him. It wasn't his fault. Why did you feel betrayed?

When you later returned to the actor's house at a controlled pace, you didn't see the usual car. Yours, however, was where you left it. Before anyone could see you, you got into your car and went to your apartment. It was still early afternoon.  
When you got home you saw that you had three missed calls from your best friend. But you hoped she was there and yes, she was waiting for you, not at all surprised by the look on your face. You must have probably looked pale since you hadn't eaten since last night, but you weren't hungry. The anger was gone and right now you didn't feel anything. No, she wasn't surprised because she knew...

"I told you not to go to him.", she justified herself by meeting you.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Because it was his turn to tell you, not mine. He told me about it a few days ago, I told him it was okay because he was just...", she paused, put her hands together, and began to watch her fingers move relentlessly against each other.

"He was just...?", you told her to continue even though she had no intention of doing so.

“He just wanted to forget you. He believed it would help. I mean did you see him? And did you see yourself?"

"What do you mean by that? It's not about me! I'm here and that woman is there, in his bed, she's wearing his shirt, she's sleeping with him!"

"She's someone who he met months ago. But it is about you. Didn't you look at her? Do you know what her job is? She looks just like you and now guess what her job is... It is about you..."

You shook your head several times, swallowed, and sat on the sofa when a lonely tear ran down your cheek. Damn it, Norman Reedus. You wouldn't cry for him. So you wiped the tear off your face with the back of your hand.

“She had no idea who I was. She looked at me and what she saw was just an ordinary journalist. At the moment I was thinking 'Why don't you know what happened? Don't you know what's between me and him?' Then, later, as I let off steam I realized that there was nothing between me and him. That I made contact impossible and that I shouldn't even think like that while my Ex-Ex is already thinking about marriage."

When you turned to your friend, you felt that you couldn't hold back the tears. "I feel stupid. What did I do?"

She reached you quickly and hugged you for comfort, whispering that everything would be fine, that she would be by your side to support you.  
She told you that the night you made peace with your Ex, she texted Norman, and he had casually met that woman again and the next morning he woke up with her by his side. He had realized that he couldn't ignore it, that he couldn't take advantage of it, but she seemed to want to 'be the girl who sleeps with Norman Reedus' and he accepted.

You woke up lying on the sofa covered with a blanket and sat up. Your head hurt terribly from crying the night before. Well, maybe the fact that you hadn't eaten helped. Two tickets for an event were placed on the table in front of you, along with a post-it note:

"I have a bad taste but I stopped by him last night to let him know he was an idiot and he gave me tickets for me, you and your boyfriend. I told him he was an insensitive idiot, but he didn't listen to me.  
There are omelets on the table too.  
Your BFF."

A small heart has been drawn in one corner.  
For now, all you thought of was the breakfast that was waiting for you and that you didn't wait long to devour as you thought about going to the event.  
You finished the omelets that went with a glass of cold coffee, took a shower and, after getting dressed, went out and went to the office. You needed peace and silence and a quiet place to write while your best friend could come home anytime. You sent her a message to ask where she was - you were pretty sure you knew the answer - before you started writing down some ideas for the article.

"Hey, are you home?"

"Yes, I'm getting dressed!", your best friend shouted.

You had stopped on your way home to get some food from a restaurant around the corner, hoping that she hadn't eaten and that your boyfriend was already there too. He came to meet you and helped you with the envelopes after kissing your cheek.

"How did it go?"

“Well, I was in the office today. I wanted to write a little..."

Your friend entered as she left the room in a cute white dress.

"The office? Interesting." He gave you a long look full of concern.

"Anyway, I bought is some food."

You picked up the envelopes and they both forgot about it, hungry as they were. It was getting late and by the time you all finished eating it was about 10 p.m. And the event started at 10:15 p.m. And you had no idea where the place was.  
You sighed, getting used to the idea of being a late, and your friend and you kept getting ready while your boyfriend was watching a movie in the living room.

That evening you only wore black pants, a shirt and a black cardigan, which would certainly have been useless.  
You arrived at the place a few minutes before eleven. When you entered there was a long bar on the right. On the other side a row of tables led to a small stage on which, ladies and gentlemen, a group performed with Norman Reedus himself. On the sides of the room there were leather armchairs instead of tables, while a kind of private room could be entered from the right side of the stage.  
Your boyfriend ordered a beer, your friend made room to get to the stage and you stood halfway between the stage and the counter and watched the crowd. You were sure that if your best friend stayed with you, she wouldn't even have noticed the kiss, which your boyfriend had put your lips after reaching you.  
The music came to your ears with more force. Your subconscious tried to alert you that Norman was a few feet away watching you, but when you looked back at him his gaze was low to watch his own hands moving quickly. And you immediately felt guilty. You wondered if he had felt the same way that morning and immediately wondered what the hell he thought of inviting your boyfriend over there too.  
After that song, you left a kiss on your boyfriend's cheek and took refuge in the private room to show the ticket, which apparently was valid for that area as well. You heard footsteps behind you, but when you turned around you saw Norman. He stood there, now motionless.

"You disappeared.", he mumbled and looked into your eyes.

But you couldn't do the same, your gaze stayed low.

"I didn't disappear, I gave you some privacy."

"I don't need privacy.", he replied.

"You don't have to explain it to me."

"But, I haven't given you any. Not yet. I had to fill a void..."

"And she worked?"

"No, it didn't work."

Yet the question came scornfully from your lips, as if the idea that she could replace you was uncomfortable. And it was just like that.

"She tried, but there is only one person who can."

He reached out a hand to you and you knew what would happen if you grabbed it. You would really have held it if your boyfriend hadn't come in laughing from behind the velvet curtain.  
The actor dropped his hand on his side.

"I'll see you at my place tomorrow at seven.", he said before turning around and moving an inch out of the way.

Your boyfriend joined you and gave the actor a puzzled look as he left.

"Babe are you okay?"

You nodded, not convinced, but he seemed to believe you. Your best friend, on the other hand, disappeared for about ten minutes and when she came back all she asked was how you were doing.

You were not feeling well.  
You were supposed to talk to your boyfriend and you weren't feeling fine.  
The next day you were supposed to go to Norman Reedus and you were not doing well at all.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, after Norman tried to communicate with you, he acted like a hypocrite. But you'd preferred to go out with your boyfriend, so he didn't feel guilty at all about the fact that he was with another woman. Why should he even care? You're only a journalist, work, nothing else...  
But god how beautiful you looked.

He stood on the stairs and watched you for a few moments, convinced that he could do it all day.  
He cleared his throat and joined you, smiling, standing next to your boyfriend.

"He was just telling me how good you were at the club last night, too bad we were a little late!"

His smile faded for a moment, but then came back apparently more confident.  
'Of course he enjoyed the show, he must have listened very carefully while kissing my journalist.', he thought to himself and nodded.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm just sorry I had to leave so fast. It would have been great to talk to you, Y/N. Unfortunately, complications have arisen but overcome..."

He fixed his gaze on you, but you were staring at your boyfriend.

"Yes, it's a shame, but at least you have to say hello to him."

You looked at your boyfriend for a moment, then Norman's eyes met yours.

"Yeah, a pretty quick hello..."

It seemed like you were watching a tennis match, first you, then Norman, then your boyfriend, then back to Norman. The actor looked away, a grin of victory appeared on the your face, while you lowered your head to hide it.  
Your boyfriend didn't answer, but kissed you on the forehead - who still hadn't opened his mouth - and walked away. "See you tomorrow morning, babe. Have a good time, Mister Reedus!"

You looked him in the eye again and at that moment he had the feeling that he could tell you everything. It had always been that way with you.

"We haven't really talked yet."

"Well, we have nothing to say to each other!"

“I wanted to leave with you last night. I wanted to put an end to this, but I didn't because I am a coward. But I want you to know the truth, which is that I was hoping that one day I would be by your side, not him.", he said in a low voice.

“You said everything when you found another journalist who is not bound by a contract and who wants to stay here voluntarily and not because she is forced to. I'm here to work, I don't need any more chaos in my life, it's enough.", you kept raising your voice.

Suddenly you heard a car outside, you loaded the bag over your shoulder and went out to meet the bodyguard who would be with you where Norman wanted to go.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Y/N, he's -", you didn't let him finish, you were already in the car.

Paparazzi at the airport, that was new. Norman usually didn't like being with a bodyguard, but his manager had insisted, and how could anyone say no to someone as nice as she was?  
You looked around in confusion as you walked to a gate after checking in. You got into a hangar and then onto the practically deserted runway.

"Where are we going?", you asked.

"In a secluded place so I can kill you.", he joked but you didn't seem very amused.

"Everything you say is used against you, you know that, right?"

Norman suddenly stopped. "So if I told you that you are perfect and that I would love to be in your boyfriend's place, what would happen?"

"I would call you a 'madman' and report you." You walked past him and laughed.

"Where has the concept of 'sincerity' gone?", he asked and catched up to you again.

"It's all very objective, especially when you say you want to be my boyfriend."

"You're right. I could say it in a positive way, but we all know that being your boyfriend would be terrible!"

"Oh, and why on earth?"

"Why are you trying so hard to love him and prove it, especially when you don't?"

"Oh... Oh, you shouldn't have done that, you idiot."

The bodyguard appeared from the side and jumped out of one of those cars that aircraft maintenance workers drive.

"I'm not jealous... You can do whatever you want with whoever you want, which bothers me only because you throw it in my face like you're having fun! I wasn't amused when I saw the look on your face, I didn't enjoy seeing him kiss you just to point out that you are his and not mine, despite the illusions that I may have been jealous, but at least I have the courage to admit it."

He followed you up the stairs into the jet.

"If I wasn't in love with him, I would be with someone else, don't you think?"

"Not if you're afraid of being with that 'someone else'."

"Afraid? Ouch... Just shut up!", you puffed and sat in the last chair on the right, while he went to the other.

Silence fell heavily for the first few hours of flight. You both didn't seem to have a voice anymore. Or rather, Norman wanted to say so many things, but the angry looks you gave him all too often were everything but talkative.  
Now you tapped on your notebook with a pen and he wanted more than anything to be able to call you his by now.

The sentences your best friend had uttered that evening to Norman at the club continued to spin around in his head.  
He remembered how you and your boyfriend had leaned against the wall. Damn uncomfortable. He had seen the scene with you and him in the private room, but you had followed him.  
At least your best friend had agreed to help Norman, but you didn't knew anything about it. After dinner together, your friend realized that Norman's mood wasn't a good one as they looked at the photos and saw the expression on his face.

"You really care about her.", she commented as if it wasn't obvious enough.

"Maybe I should get away from her..."

"You already tried and it didn't work."

"It would be a step forward..."

"Norman..." She stepped in front of him, took his hand and looked into his eyes. "If you really love her..."

"I don't love her.", he answered immediately.  
He had been preparing this answer for a while, but it didn't even sound right to his ears.

"If you really love her..." She kept ignoring him. "...You have to show her that you can give her what she needs. She wants something different, something more. Maybe romantic passion or a deep conversation, you know... I mean she wants to be loved. And she wants to be loved by you. She just doesn't want to admit it because it's easier to love someone you know will always love you."

"Her Ex...", he just whispered back then.

"Yeah.", she confirmed.

Did he love her? Can you love someone you've known for less than two weeks? Maybe it was just an uncontrolled attraction for you, but ... there was something about the way you laughed, or the way you pulled your hair back, or when you wrote, with that carefree expression like it was the easiest thing on earth. He often imagined you on his favorite chair, with a leather notebook, a fountain pen and works that would conquer the world. And with him at your side watching her in silence. He wouldn't have done anything else. He would have just watched you for hours. There was something about you that made him regret calling all of his former girlfriends "real love". There was something that made him believe his only love was you by now. And right after that, he thought he was crazy. He had spoken to your best friend about it - who had become an ally - and she had replied: "These are the words of a lover." But Norman was more than convinced that he wasn't ready to fall in love, that he wasn't ready to fall in love with YOU. Because he knew that if you admitted it, it would change his life one way or another.

A moment of confusion overcame you when the jet was on the ground again.

"Norman...", you called him and he joined you.

"What's wrong?"

You stood motionless in front of a large analog clock. "If it's four in the afternoon, why is it night?"

"Y/N, it's four in the morning, that's why it's night."

You looked incredibly confused. "But..."

"The time zone."

"So this here is a jet lag...", you mumbled, your eyes widening. "Are you telling me that we practically traveled through time? It's not Saturday, but Sunday?"

"Yeah. We are invited for Sunday night, that means tonight."

You stood with your mouth open for a few seconds and seemed to be drawing calculations in the air with your fingers.  
"Okay... What do we do now?"

"You follow me."

The bodyguard followed you both in silence and looked around. You crossed the almost deserted halls of the airport, at the exit you met the usual circle of paparazzi, but you tried not to give them too much attention, and when you were outside you took refuge in the SUV that awaited you.  
At first it had been difficult to get used to all these changes, to the hectic pace.

"Is your manager here too?", you asked him after half an hour's drive, looking out of the window.

"No, why?"

You turned to him with a shrug. "I don't know, just curiosity." You dropped your head against the glass. "Are we going to a hotel or..."

"I have a little house here, don't worry..."

After a while he began to watch out of the frony window which would then lead you both to the building that was bought unnecessarily in the end. In a few minutes you were in front of the gate, from which you could already see the lodge. You then went to the middle of the car and leaned over for a better look. Norman smiled.

"Do I have to assume this will end the article?"

“Oh, you can bet on it. If I have my boss's approval, everything that happens today will end the article.", you replied laughing.

"Sounds a lot like a threat...", Norman said when he thought about describing what would happen in the next few days.

Because he had organized everything, but he hadn't told you yet. And he didn't have the courage to tell you anything.  
You both got out of the car and reached the big door. You stayed behind, enthusiastic about the autumn landscape, although the weather was definitely colder than you had expected.  
The interior resembled that of a large house: A central staircase lead to a corridor that communicated with the bedrooms and bathrooms.  
The bodyguard left and promised to come back around 6pm that evening. Norman let you to a tour of the house.

"My parents have a house like this.", you muttered, leaving the bag on the floor in a bedroom. "Much smaller for sure, but I've always found a similarity between all those houses, I wish I could see them."

You fell half stretched out on the bed, you legs dangling, watching the walls and ceiling while Norman stood next to the door and watched you.

"If you want we can visit them."

Your gaze met his when you sat up. "Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Do I have the face of someone joking around?"

"Yes."

“Well, I'm not kidding."

You got out of bed and literally jumped on top of him, causing him to stagger back a few steps.

"Thank you so much!"

To keep you from falling he automatically put his hands under your legs. When you lifted your face from his shoulder and your eyes met, he knew what he wanted to happen. There were just the two of you and a bed. Yet he put you on the floor.

"You should rest...", he mumbled as he left.

"Her friend was right.", he thought to himself. "You can't give her any security. You run away when you see something that might make you happy. From the day you saw her, you ran away with your mysterious behavior, which you should have given up already. Y/N probably hated you."

Norman woke up around 4 p.m. after about nine hours of sleep. As he got out of bed half naked, after flatly refusing to get dressed after showering when he had to go to sleep, he slowly began to dress. Shirt, sweater, jeans, the usual clothes. When this process was over, he went to your room. You were completely wrapped in blankets and lying on your side. A towel was lying folded on a wardrobe while your clothes fell over the bag that was still closed. On the small desk on the side of the room, facing the window, was the laptop, still open. Norman closed the door without looking at the article and decided that after half an hour he would wake you up, wanting to show you the surprise he had prepared...


	11. Chapter 11

In the end Norman woke you up too late. You had to dress and with everything else would never make it in time. You made the driver wait for a quarter of an hour downstairs, with Norman drumming his foot outside the bedroom door until you ran out quickly down the stairs, aided by a couple of heels.

"Come on, go!", he shouted to the driver, throwing the door open and getting into the car.

You arrived at the Morgan's house slightly late, nothing that hadn't already happened, however. You rang the doorbell and stood waiting, anxiously.

"Norman!"

Jeffrey appeared at the threshold, smiling. He looked over at you, and Norman hoped with all his heart that, even knowing what work you did, you wouldn't turn what was supposed to be a quiet dinner with friends into a dinner with acquaintances.

"Normam, is she-..."

"...Y/N."

Jeffrey released your hand and hugged Norman, then led you into the common room. Norman squeezed your hand in his, while you thanked him with a smile.  
Children were playing in the living room, His wife was sitting in the corner, wearing a simple shirt and pants.  
Releasing your hand, Normam walked over to her to greet her.

"How are you? We haven't seen each other for a while, have we?"

"We're fine, but what about you?"

"Good as well I guess."

"So can we eat?"

"Yes, we can eat.", his wife replied smiling.

"Have the children eaten yet?"

"Sure, and they'll be going to sleep soon."

"Exactly."

While eating you looked comfortable and you all looked like a bunch of old school friends.

"So when is the next meeting for shooting some scenes?", you asked suddenly. Seeing the silence, you hastened to add. "I promise I won't write about it in the article!"

"You start not keeping your promise like this...", Norman replied referring to the morning.

"Oh, shut up. On the other hand ... I think you are making fun of me.", you said laughing.

"And you are absolutely right!", Jeffrey followed her in laughter, as did his wife and Norman.

After dinner, you found yourselves talking about the children's school, and then the fateful question came from Jeffrey's wife.

"How's it going with you and your girlfriend?"

Norman shrugged. “Everything would have been easier if we hadn't met, I think..."

"Are you really thinking that?", Jeffrey asked.

“I told you, the newspapers are right..."  
Norman shook his head and put his hands together on the table. "There's nothing else I can do, other than to try not to ruin my reputation."

What burst from his lips was a laugh that bordered on hysteria.  
Your hand reached across the table and squeezed his. This time it was him who thanked you.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Norman, just be patient, don't panic."

Later, you got up from the table, Norman following Jeffrey into the next room in his apartment while you insisted on helping in the kitchen.

"They told me about ... her.", Jeffrey began by stifling laughter. "At first I thought she was a spy sent by your ... girlfriend?"

"But why did everyone tell me how much they disliked heer only after the separation?"

"Because you were so into her, we certainly didn't want to destroy your dreams."

He sat in the chair in the corner, from where the whole room could be overseen, although it was still small.

"Between you and Y/N, is there...?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on... The smiles, holding hands, the looks..."

"Will you tell me too that you can clearly see that I'm in love with her?"

"Who told you that?"

"Well, forget it!"

"I don't know if you're in love with her, but the love bait sure caught you."

"And isn't that the same thing?"

"Just one way of saying it is more poetic than the other."

"Sure, and you're the one who cares about being poetic."

"Obviously!"

"One once the obvious things is, that she is a journalist."

"So?"

Their conversation continued to sound like a tennis match, not even giving themselves time to think.

“With that, I don't know how serious it can be. You know the journalists..."

"You know them too, so don't be suspicious, you know very well that you can trust her."

“Do you really think we can establish a relationship in two weeks?"

"Have you ever talked about a stable relationship?"

"We haven't really talked about any relationship."

"So what are you worried about?"

They kept talking a little more about reporters, and everything that came to their minds. Hilarie and you were both sitting on the sofa chatting, but when the men arrived you seemed to suddenly change the subject when she had brought up the subject of a book that you had never even opened.

It was raining when you and Norman left their home.

“The weather is nice, huh? Really good weather!", he thought, snorting. You pulled at his jacket to make him turn around and laughed.

"Stop being so damn grumpy and enjoy the rain!"

The driver arrived immediately, you in the car continued to hold onto his arm, as if it was the only grip during a storm. For that hour and a half of travel you didn't stop smiling. 

"Okay, stop the car and leave us here!", you almost shouted.

You jumped out of the car and dragged Norman with you into the rain. With his hand in yours, you continued to spin as you ran towards the house through the front garden. You spun around as if you were dancing with minimal help from him. Closing the door behind him as Norman walked in behind you, you released his hand and went up the stairs.

"I am going to take a shower!"

How could he not notice that because of the rain the clothes adhered perfectly to your body, revealing every curve of you? The man swallowed and went up too, more slowly, heading for his room to calm down.

The bathroom door to the next room closed. The water began to pour, almost trying to hide the noise that came from outside.  
Your body interrupted at times the otherwise continuous flow.  
And the water kept flowing.  
Norman pictured you humming any song, completely naked. He remembered how he had caressed you that night at your house, thinking about what would've happened only if...

Without even realizing it he had entered your room, then the bathroom and finally he had moved the curtain.  
It was not in the least comparable to how he had imagined it. Without any hesitation, he dared to enter and kissed you passionately. Not even a moment's hesitation, and you reciprocated. He dug one hand into your wet hair as the other leaned behind your back and pulled your body against his. He felt your hands quickly unbutton his shirt. A shiver ran through him as your hands allowed themselves to descend along to pull off the belt and then unbutton the jeans, which almost immediately reached the bathroom floor. You clung to him like that morning, leaving his lips to kiss his neck.  
You were there walking into the dark room to reach the bed where you would spend the night together, without interruptions, without boyfriends or girlfriends, without the past, without offense, without remorse.

“We want each other and we belong to each other...", Norman thought, stroking your body without taking his eyes away from you.


	12. Chapter 12

Sunlight filtered through the thick curtains of the window and forced you to open your eyes, finding yourself in a room you did not know. It took you a few seconds to realize that you actually knew where you was, and especially with whom.  
Norman, the night before, had placed you on the bed and then lay down beside you. Between kissing and rolling around in the blankets, the line was very thin, and it was crossed without delay. After so much resistance, you could no longer refuse it.  
Two days had passed since you had seen your boyfriend, two days since you were more than sure that you would be with him forever, that you would never leave him for Norman, while now you could not imagine a life without that actor. Damn him... But did he love you? What made you different from the other journalists?  
You jumped up and moved the covers, standing there mentally discussing without realizing that there was a totally different situation on the other side, between you and your boyfriend. What would you have told him when you returned? But a bigger question occupied your mind: Where was the actor?  
You hurried to the bathroom to wash your face, retrieved your shirt from the floor and put it on before you looked out of the door. A sweet smell of hot croissants and coffee reached you.

"Norman?"

No reply. You took a few steps down the hall, but the cold air forced you to go back into the bedroom. As you walked past the window to reach the bag, you noticed the thick fog outside. Oddly, it made everything more magical and beautiful. You looked closer and noticed a figure in front of the back door, the one used in the past.  
Norman was just standing there, except for his right hand which was raised from time to time to reach his lips. He smoked as usual. You knocked on the window, he turned around and raised his head. It took him a while to find you. The cigarette flew away as he opened the door on the ground floor.  
The plane, the hug, the promise, Jeffrey and Hilarie, the shower... How many things had happened and how much your behavior towards him had changed! Convinced that by being a sour woman you would have pushed him away, you had continued on that path, making jokes and responding sarcastically to everything he said to you. But how could you continue to support that wall you had built, even knowing what you felt and what he was ready to reveal to you?

"You're finally awake!"

You saw him suddenly appear outside the door, and in an instant you were in his arms, your lips pressed against his.

"Did you wake up early?", you asked, tying your hands behind his neck.

"I didn't sleep at all.", he whispered, bending over to kiss you repeatedly.

"You offend me, I haven't exhausted you as much as you have exhausted me!", you murmured in response.

He looked up to meet your eyes. A shrug and he was on your lips again.

"I'm strong tough..."

"I bet you got this trait from Daryl Dixon.", you laughed.

He laughed too. "You got it."

His hands went down to your hips and in a short time they left you.  
"Come down, there's breakfast.", he said touching the tip of your nose with his lips before nodding his head towards the stairs.

"I'll be right there, I just have to make a call for a moment.", you smiled, trying to hide your nervousness. The phone call wasn't going to be easy at all.

Norman frowned, but then he seemed to understand. "Him?"

You nodded. He made an effort to smile but immediately turned around and walked away. "I'll wait for you!", he shouted as he went down the stairs.

You retrieved the phone from the bag and played with it for a few seconds, until you decided to dial a different number, the one of your best friend, and press the evil green button.

"Y/N?", a sleepy voice answered you. "I was afraid you died in a plane crash or some kind of disaster!"

"I'm sorry I didn't call you..."

Suddenly you heard a rustle of blankets, she was probably sitting up. “So, when are you coming back? Your boyfriend called me this afternoon, saying he hadn't been able to contact you and was very worried. You know him."

“Yeah, him…”

“I don't like that tone. Or rather, I like it but, I don't know why, but I'm kinda sorry for him. What happened?"

"It's a long story."

"I bet it was a long night too!", she laughed heartily on the other side of the phone, then coughed and returned to be calmer. "Sorry. By now you have woken me up, tell me!"

You explained to her about the plane trip, about the crazy desire you had to slap him and kiss him at the same time, about the strange hug in which you had felt him so close to you and everything else.

"Well... Wile everyone makes deals behind him and uses him, you will be the only one who has simply done your job but who, despite everything, has helped him this month. You are helping him and you don't even realize it. You made him hopeful. Haven't seen him so radiant in years, you know?"

"I... I think I love him..."   
You heard those words, but you had no idea where they came from.

"And that's enough."

You had the memory fixed in your mind as you briefly told her about the dinner and what had happened after. The rain and fog had certainly not faded into the background. She cried out when you told her of your surprise when you had heard the bathroom door open.

“So… You and him… I mean, is it official?"

"Oh... No. It is... No."   
You sat on the bed and pulled your knees up to your chest. “I don't think it will happen anytime soon. I still have to call you know who, but I don't want to tell him everything over the phone, I prefer to do it in person."

"Right, don't be a bitch."

"I already am. At least, I feel like it. I should have clarified everything before leaving."

“It's too late for that now, no need to continue overthinking it. Listen, when are you going to come back?"

"I don't know, I'm thinking of leaving tomorrow... I'll tell you everything when I get back... In the meantime, can you tell 'h i m' tomorrow morning to call me when he can?"

"Sure. 24 hours a day.", she laughed before ending the call.

In the living room a breakfast looked like it was set for about ten people. There was a basket full of fruit, two coffee pots, toast, pancakes, nutella, eggs and everything you need for a perfect breakfast.

"Are you joking?"

"I didn't know what you liked to eat or drink for breakfast, other than coffee."

He kissed you on the forehead before approaching a chair and pulling it away from the table, then nodding to you. You sat down and he pulled his chair back to the table, then settled into it.

"How did it go..."

"I changed my mind and called my best friend instead, asked her to tell him to call me back as soon as he can."

He nodded and grabbed a pancake with his fork. You took some toast and covered it with jam before biting into it.

"Am I wrong or is that my shirt?", Norman asked pointing to your only visible garment.

"You're not wrong... I didn't want to get dressed this morning."

He laughed, that warm laugh you already loved so much.

"I noticed... I never understood this thing with women and men's shirts."

"I don't know, it's not something I've done often… But they're ... comfortable. And they are light. There's something magical about feeling the fabric of the shirt against your skin."

The man opened his mouth, but closed it again. He didn't want to talk about something that had crossed his mind. "We should start to get dressed, the driver will be here soon."

You had quickly put on a pair of trousers, the usual white shirt and flat boots.  
Before going down you turned on the computer, quickly reread the most important parts of the article, rewriting what needed to be revised, and then sent everything to the office and your boss.  
Norman was waiting for you downstairs, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans.

"One day someone will steal your computer to preview the articles you send to your boss.", he said, following you into the car and sitting next to you.

“There's no need to steal, just ask. I only wrote that a lot more women should audition for a movie of yours, in case there was a shower scene in the script if you know what I mean and-..."

This time he interrupted you with a kiss.  
The driver, who had gotten into the car as quiet as ever, stared at you in the rearview mirror, a bit shocked. He hid a laugh with a cough and started the car.  
You leaned forward between the two front seats to talk to him with a grin on your face, seeing him blushing.

"Do you think I could sue this Mr. Reedus for harassment?"

“If you allow, I don't think it's clever of you. Too many lawyers, Miss."

"You think?"

"Unfortunately yes, Miss."

You nodded thoughtfully. Norman watched the exchange with a frown.

“Should I then take advantage of the situation? Do you think I could do that and that Mr. Reedus would have no reason to go against it?"

"I suppose so, Miss."

"Thank you."

"At your service, Miss."

You sank into the back seat crossing your legs. "I suppose, then, we will have to ignore some of the rules of the contract for a while."

Norman laughed and dropped his head back. “Yeah, I suppose so. Better not tell your colleagues!"

Thus you spent the journey, like a newly married couple, as if the night just passed had clarified everything, as if you had put your cards on the table. It wasn't like that, but it suited you both. It was like a vacation. A vacation away from the real world.


	13. Chapter 13

The driver was waiting for you in the car and helped loading the bags when you left for the airport. You were silent all the way.  
At the airport you found more paparazzi than you had expected. You walked down the hallway to the entrance for a while, but at one point you stopped, dragging the driver with you.

"Hey can I ask you for something?", you whispered.

"Of course, Miss."

"From now on you will call me Y/N."

A little bit of time later you were surrounded and overwhelmed by questions from the paparazzi. Norman stopped suddenly, realizing you weren't following him. Fortunately, there was an airport guard next to him to protect him from any attacks. You looked from him to a reporter in front of you, holding the driver's arm and grabbed the man's face with your other hand to kiss him, and then turned to the crowd.

“If you all really want to know it, we are engaged, that's the big secret. Norman is too good, he doesn't want to separate us, so he lets us travel together!"

The dismay of the journalists allowed you to pass them and reach the actor who was waiting impatiently for you. He looked as though he had heard of some tragedy.

"I saw what you tried to do, but I don't understand it and I don't think they'll believe it."

You ignored him and, still holding the driver's arm, kept walking until you reached the gate and then the plane. Norman seemed furious but you didn't understand why but you went passed the seats and straight to the bathroom. The actor followed you and closed the lock on the sliding door.

"So am I right when I say I have to be jealous with my driver around?"

"You don't have to be jealous of anyone, that's the point."

"Don't play this game with me, it doesn't work! What would I be, your fun before you go to sleep and as soon as you wake up? Then am I for another 12 hours 'just the actor you work for'? And what is your concept of 'boyfriend'? Oh and what about your boyfriend, the one you wanted to call two hours ago, you know, the one you're cheating on with me?"

“So now I'm the problem?"

"And I don't think you are so sorry, or am I wrong?"

“So what am I now? Just some slut who runs away with the first one who passes by?" , you said and opened the door to meet the driver's gaze.   
"Want to go in? Have some fun. Come on, one more, one less, someone here thinks shit doesn't matter to me at-..."

Before you could finish the sentence, or rather, before you could get out, Norman pushed you between his body and the countertop of the sink. With one hand he closed the door, with the other he blocked you, although you tried to free yourself from his grip. He kissed you, and it was a hard and passionate kiss, a kiss that you found yourself wanting more than a drop of water in the middle of the desert.

"How can I make you understand that I'm tired of hiding?", he answered with a whisper. "That I'm tired of lying?"

Slowly, he pulled away from you and leaned against the door. “I'm tired of acting even off set. Do you know how much I wanted this morning to take the phone out of your hands and tell your boyfriend, or Ex or whatever everything that has happened these days? About the connection between us?"

He kept looking at something in the mirror behind you.

"Norman, I…”

“No, no… Let me finish. As soon as I saw all those paparazzi, I thought: 'It's done. I kiss her now, and there will be nothing more to lose. I will tell everyone that we are together and that I love her and everything will be perfect.'"

Had he just said that in a bathroom?

“But I didn't. I waited too long, you took the driver and kissed him as if it was the simplest of actions, and you did it just to silence the rumors, but I don't want to confirm them."

Suddenly your cell phone rang at that exact moment. You took it out of your bag as you thought about that 'I'll tell everyone I love you;' and looked at the screen of your cell phone. Norman, shaking his head, went out of the bathroom and left you alone.

"Yes?"

“Y/N, honey… He sent me a message, I wasn't home, I just read it now. Hey, are you okay? But... Are you crying?"

Yes, you were crying. In an attempt to fix the situation, you had ruined everything.

“Did something happen with Norman? Did he say something to you? Oh my god, I would like to hug you right now... Talk to me, what is wrong?"

“No, I'm fine, I'm fine. You caught me at the wrong time, that's all."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Do you think it's possible to love someone only after two weeks?"

"Y/N, I think it's possible to love someone even after just one day."

“If photos of me and some guy appear in the papers tomorrow, don't give it any thought. In fact, I believe they will appear. Unfortunately."

Red button... You ended the call.  
You only left the bathroom after you made sure you had regained full control of your tears and erased all traces of the passage of them on your face.

You remained silent.  
Rising to take his drink, he passed you a hot tea, looking at yoy without really seeing you.  
It only took a couple of hours of travel before returning to a busier airport than the previous one. The driver in an off-road vehicle drove you to the hotel, exchanging jokes from time to time with Norman who was sitting in the front seat. You had occupied the empty space next to you by placing the bag on it.  
When you pulled out your phone to check your messages, the actor gave you an unamused look.  
Your boss congratulated you on the article: The first part had been published and sales had increased over the previous week; Your 'boyfriend' apologized for his earlier behavior and asked how the last few days had gone; your best friend made sure everything was fine. You quickly answered all three of them before arriving at the destination.  
Norman must have called before you got there, because there were two separate suites waiting for you. You put down your things and almost collided outside in the corridor.

“It was a simple suggestion to allow you to spend some time alone, I don't want to intrude. I can stay here today too."

Just thinking about how things had changed from the previous day hurt.

"Don't talk nonsense.", he blurted out, and for a moment you smiled. "You have to write the rest of the article."

The man went into his room about half an hour later. You felt sick, nauseated, you didn't know what to think or what to do. Once in the bedroom, you called your best friend.  
Twenty minutes later and you were back in bed. You turned and turned around. Hours passed without you being able to sleep. And then you knew what to do, the thought that had haunted you since that very morning and that you had ignored. Without thinking further, you sat up. You were wearing your usual, sweatpants and a shirt despite the cold breeze. You used the card the driver had given you to enter the actor's room, walked over to the bed and saw his figure under the sheets only when you crouched a few inches to his face.

"Norman..."

He opened his eyes, confused.

"Norman...", you smiled. "I love you too."

And in that instant you realized he wasn't alone in bed.


End file.
